


Photograph

by Liz_Night



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: And best friends, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood Magic, Geralt and Yennefer are immortal, Geraskier Week, Injury, M/M, Our boys are switches, Reincarnation, Rough Sex, allusions to suicidal thoughts, and incredibly smutty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 23,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22721278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liz_Night/pseuds/Liz_Night
Summary: Julian is brand new to town and living on his own. Out of the blue he gets a job offer to be the housekeeper for a client of the mysterious Jennifer. The man is sexy and even more mysterious than Jennifer, even if he's gruff and leaves the room as soon as he's there. But there's something odd about this job that has Julian remembering things that he shouldn't.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 120
Kudos: 489





	1. Holding Me Closer Till Our Eyes Meet

**Author's Note:**

> A chapter for each day of Geraskier Week. First up is Soulmates! Title and chapter titles are from the song Photograph from Ed Sheeran. 
> 
> Many thanks to Shehungthemoon for betaing for me!!!!

Julian cut the engine on his bike and leaned over the handlebars, staring up at the old house. The rough walls had to have been hewn from the trees that surrounded the cabin. It wasn’t particularly large, but it was still larger than his tiny apartment by campus. The porch was bare and the plants that lined the walkway up to it were in various stages of death. It was…  _ imposing _ , to say the least. The land around it seemed grimmer and darker than the rest of the area. Even on a day as clear as it was with a light breeze cooling the sweat on the back of his neck.

He gulped and toed the kickstand down before getting off. He winced as the bike creaked under him. He hoped that his new employer wasn’t watching him through a window. He’d been told to be as quiet as possible and his ancient bike would not make the best of impressions. He started up the walkway, his helmet in hand as he watched warily for loose stones.

He’d been skeptical when he’d gotten the job offer.

Julian had just gotten into town around dawn and had spent the morning unloading the rental truck outside his new apartment. The sun was high and sweat made his shirt cling to his back when he heard heels clicking against the pavement behind him. He turned and saw one of the most gorgeous women he’d ever seen looking straight at him with a bemused expression. His mouth dried as she came within touching distance.

She had said her name was Jennifer and hadn’t given a last name to go with it. When she spoke, Julian hadn’t been able to concentrate on anything else but her smooth, smokey voice and barely noticed when she pushed him back into the truck. He sat, his back against one of the heavier boxes, staring up at her.

Then he had simply blinked and she had been gone. He looked around and saw a deep purple car driving away. He swallowed and his hand clenched around a stiff piece of paper in his hand. He looked down and saw an appointment card with an address and a time for the next day. He looked back up to where the car was disappearing and blinked again before he stood and hefted the box up and carried it inside. He set it down beside the couch and sat down, scrubbing his hand through his hair.

But he’d shown up the next day where the card said and met with her. She was marginally less mesmerizing and Julian was able to keep his wits about him as she told him about the job opportunity. She needed a housekeeper for a client of hers to do the cleaning, cooking, and some yard work, while bothering the client as little as possible. The salary she quoted him nearly made him accept on the spot, but he just barely remembered to not appear too desperate and keep his cool. He’d walked away with the promise to think about the offer.

And he did. All the way back home. And to his computer. Somehow, all the jobs he’d looked at before had disappeared. All that was left were jobs that he wasn’t qualified for and ones that wouldn’t work with his class schedule. Before the day was over, he’d called her back and accepted.

The floorboards creaked as he stepped up to the porch. He wondered again if he had been too hasty in his decision. Hesitantly, he knocked at the door and waited for any sign of a response from inside and heard nothing but the sound of distant birds. 

Julian shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He looked around and felt his heart speed up. There were no other houses nearby. He’d noticed how few driveways were along the drive, but hadn’t expected the house to be in the middle of nowhere. He’d seen plenty of scary movies where the handsome, charming guy was lured to his death by sexy people to see where this was probably going.

He sprinted back to his bike and quickly dialed Jennifer. 

“Hello? Julian?”

He sighed. “Yeah, uh, your client isn’t here and I can’t get in.”

“Oh, yes, he’s with me right now. You’re welcome inside,” she said. Julian could hear what he thought was a soft growl in the background.

“Um, key?” he asked.

“The door isn’t locked.”

Julian blinked. “He doesn’t lock his door? What about thieves?”

Jennifer laughed. “I don’t think a thief would target him, Julian.”

“O-kay,” he said slowly. “Well, uh, thank you.”

He hung up and faced the house again. He squared his shoulders and stomped back up to the house. By the time he reached the door, his shoulders had already begun the climb back up to his ears again. Like the floorboards, the door hinges creaked as he entered the house. He squinted, getting used to the lack of light slowly.

He could see why the man needed a housekeeper.

Dust swirled in the air from the breeze as the door shut behind him. The smell of it made his nose itch. The room had the bare minimum of furniture: a plain couch and a bookshelf and table that seemed to be made out of the same wood as the cabin. He had the feeling that the rest of the house would be just as minimalist. He poked his head into the kitchen and saw dishes in the sink and a stove that needed a good scrubbing.

Julian slipped his jacket off and put it on the back of one of two chairs at the kitchen table with his helmet. He rolled up his sleeves and started drawing hot water for the dishes as he searched for cleaning supplies. He found them in a small alcove in the kitchen and pulled the ones that he thought he would need before going back to the sink.

He hummed to himself as he worked, some tune that he barely remembered. It was peaceful here. It made him wonder what kind of person would live in such a place and also be one of Jennifer’s clients. He stopped, his hand poised to pull the sink plug. What was it that Jennifer did? Did he really never even think to ask? It seemed like every time he had been in a room with the women, all logical thought and sense evaporated from his mind. 

He looked out the window and saw a green field full of wildflowers all the way up to the forest. His fingers itched to paint it and he absently thought of color combinations and how he would get the light right. 

Did it really matter what she did? Or what her client did? Julian had found no blood or body parts. It couldn’t be that bad. He shrugged and pulled the plug before turning and going back to the main room.

The dust still made his nose itch. He crossed to a window and pulled it open, before doing the same with the two others in the room. It made the air a little fresher as he swept and mopped and dusted. By the time he had finished, the room had warmed and he could smell the scent of the flowers outside.

He opened doors to find the next room that needed the most cleaning and found the bathroom and a bedroom that were fairly neat before he came to the last door. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dark and nearly shut the door.

It was a storage room of some kind. Boxes lined the walls and in the corner was a string instrument he hadn’t seen before. Phantoms of music played in his ears and he stepped forward and knelt before it, raising shaking fingers to the strings. They seemed to vibrate under his fingers and words began to take form in his mind.

Julian froze, shaking his head as he fell back on his backside. He scrambled away from the  _ lute  _ and wondered how he even knew what it was now. He staggered to his feet and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it. “What is it with this job?” He asked the house. “I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t even know how to play a guitar, let alone some stupid medieval one.”

He pushed away and put up the cleaning supplies and grabbed his things before running outside and to his bike. He strapped the helmet on and started the bike.

Once he was headed down the road, it was easier to breathe. He had to be imagining everything with this job. That was the only explanation.

A car rounded a curve ahead of him and he recognized Jennifer’s sedan. He glanced in and saw a man in the passenger seat. Julian’s breath caught in his throat as his eyes focused on him and he seemed to look back. Time seemed to freeze around them and Julian couldn’t look away.

The car kept moving, breaking their eye contact as they passed. He pulled over once the car was out of sight. It was decided then. He was either losing his mind or in a romance novel.


	2. We Made These Memories for Ourselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 2: Monster Hunt
> 
> A little late, but yesterday was really busy. I should be able to post the next chapter after work tonight when I can finish editing it.

Julian rolled over and shoved his nose in between the pages of a book. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. He’d fallen asleep reading again. Whenever he did that, he had the strangest dreams.

This time there’d been dragons and dwarves, but the humans had been the thing he feared the most. Once before, it had been an invisible genie that tried to choke him. It only got weirder from there.

He slowly stood, scratching his stomach and stumbled through his morning routine of starting the coffee, bathroom, and then standing by the coffee pot like the zombie he was until it was ready. 

With coffee finally made and steaming from his favorite (and  _ only  _ unpacked) cup, he sat back down on his bed and poked at the book.  _ The Law of Surprise and Other Irksome Vexations  _ was emblazoned across the cover. He’d made it halfway through and had only started it just the night before. Grant Rivia was a wonderful writer with such a dry sense of humor that had Julian disturbing his neighbors at all hours.

He still had time before he really needed to start his day and another week before classes started. He  _ could  _ read. Just a chapter or two. 

Julian set his coffee cup on the floor next to the bed and leaned back against the wall, covering his lap with his blanket. He picked up the book and found his place again. Geralt, the hero of the story, had just been roped into attending a banquet as his best friend’s (and sometimes lover) bodyguard. He loved the interaction between the two characters and would get so caught up in the story whenever they shared a scene together.

He glanced up at his alarm clock and flailed out of bed. He’d done it again. He was late. Really late. He jumped up, threw on some (mostly) clean clothes and his jacket and ran out the door.

The morning air was still comfortable, and the breeze as he rode his bike up the hill was nice. He stopped at the end of the walkway again and didn’t see any cars. Julian sighed, relieved that no one would know how late he was. 

The house was as creaky as ever as he crossed the porch and opened the door. He set his jacket and helmet on a peg and stretched, working any kinks out of his neck. Jennifer had texted the night before saying that she and her client had picked up some food for him to make. He could start on that and do some more cleaning while it was in the oven.

He glanced out a window and saw flowers dancing in the wind. Or he could tidy up the front walk. It  _ was _ a nice day out.

The bathroom door opened, and Julian tilted his head to look. His mouth went dry. 

A man with the fairest blond hair (It couldn’t be white. There was no way that he was a day over thirty.) stood in front of the bathroom, staring back at Julian. He wore only a towel wrapped loosely around his hips and his skin was still damp, water droplets falling from his hair.

“Hi, um, h-hello,” Julian said, stammering. “I-I’m Julian. Jennifer hired me to be your housekeeper, I think.”

“ _ You’re _ Julian,” the man growled.

Julian swallowed, but nodded. 

“Fucking Yennefer,” the man said, his face twisting. He turned away and stomped to the bedroom. Julian's eyes fell to the floor to keep himself from staring at the man. Especially his ass.

"I'll be outside, then," he said, voice embarrassingly high.

He stepped outside and sat down on the step. He could hear the low rumble of the man's voice from inside. Julian hid his face in his hands.

"I am not attracted to my new boss," he told himself. "I can't be. People who keep their jobs do not want to sleep with their bosses."

He heard the man's voice and pictured his backside again. "Fuck," he whispered.

"Is he being an ogre again?"

Julian looked up to see Jennifer walking up to him. "I wouldn't say that."

She let out the sexiest snort Julian had ever seen. "I would," she said. "Give me a few minutes with him."

He ducked as she walked past him and into the house. He tried not to listen for what they were saying when he realized that he couldn't hear either of them. Jennifer either had the soothing skills of a career nanny or magic. Julian laughed at the thought. Jennifer did not have the look of some new age kook. Even with her dark, silky hair and eyes such a deep blue that they appeared purple. Nanny it was.

He shoved his knuckle in his mouth to keep from making any noises as his mind turned to thoughts of the man inside needing anything similar to a nanny. He really needed to spend less time on the internet, especially those kink websites that he always found himself on.

The door opened, and Julian turned. Jennifer walked past him. “All cleared up,” she said. “He shouldn’t be any more trouble.”

“Um, Jennifer?”

She turned around to face him, her brows lifted.

“Did he call you Yennefer?”

She seemed to freeze momentarily before she rolled her eyes. "It's a nickname from a long time ago. He refuses to call me anything else."

Julian nodded, but, for some reason, didn't believe her.

"You can go inside, though," she said, waving her hand towards the door. "He promised to behave."

Julian nodded again as he stood. 

"Julian," she said, and he turned back to her. Her face was pinched with concern. "Geralt, he's… Well, he's not very good with people at first. Please be patient with him."

Julian tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. "I'm not going to lie. He's intimidating and a bit scary. But I need this job. So I'll stick with it."

Jennifer sighed. "Thank you. You won't regret it."

He heard her walk away before he turned and faced the door. He squared his shoulders and walked through the door. 

The other man was sitting on the couch, looking incredibly uncomfortable, but thankfully dressed in a dark sweater and jeans. A familiar book sat on the table near him.  _ The Curse of Fake Devils and Duckling Bards. _

"Jennifer said that your name was Geralt? Like the character in that book?" Julian said, nodding to it.

Geralt nodded and cleared his throat. "Yes," he said, his voice a rumble. 

"That's interesting," he said. "Good books, though."

Geralt shifted in his seat. He abruptly stood. "I'll leave you to your work. I'm going for a walk."

Julian watched the man leave. The house seemed quieter without him. "What did I do?" He whispered.


	3. When I'm Away, I Will Remember How You Kissed Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Three: Protection
> 
> I finally start to earn the rating!! Also tags have been updated with a few warnings. Please check them out to be safe. Most don't come in to play until the next chapter at least.

Julian shook the water from his hair as he stepped on the porch. On rainy days he almost regretted choosing his (much) cheaper bike over the ancient car he’d also been considering. But his motorcycle was covered and safe from the rain, and a little water wouldn't hurt him.

It had been a few days since the shower incident that Julian had been trying to forget. Geralt was still awkward around him, but he was beginning to think that was normal for the man.

He stepped inside, toeing off his sodden shoes and starting to slip his jacket off before he looked up.

Geralt sat on the couch, typewriter on the table in front of him.

“I didn’t see you as a hipster,” Julian said, and Geralt looked up at him.

“A what?”

Julian finished pulling his jacket off and hung it on a hook. “You know hipsters. Flannel and man buns? They like doing things the old way for aesthetics.”

Geralt just stared at him. “I may be a hermit,” he finally said.

Julian opened his mouth and looked away. “That… makes sense.”

Geralt straightened a pile of pages that had already been typed. “What are you doing today?”

Julian glanced outside. “I was going to do some more yard work, but that doesn’t look like it’s going to be an option. Do you need any laundry done?”

Geralt nodded, looking away.

“Okay, I’ll start on that and then some cooking. Anything you want?” he asked.

The blond man stood. “Whatever you decide. I’ll be back.”

He brushed past Julian, leaving him standing by the door alone. “Do I stink?” he asked no one.

* * *

The rain was coming down harder. Julian had watched it as the chicken he was cooking heated on the stove. The ride home would be rough. A strong wind had started not long after he started laundry, making the trees bend to the point of breaking.

He heard the door swing open and slam shut. Geralt stepped into the kitchen, toweling his soaked hair.

“The road’s washed out,” he said.

“What?” he asked, eyes growing wide. “But how am I supposed to get home?”

He shook his head. “You’ve seen the road up here on a good day. I wouldn’t chance going down in a truck made for off roading now, let alone your little bike. You can stay here tonight.”

“Hey, it’s not that little!”

Geralt rolled his eyes, setting the towel down on the counter. “The point is that you’re staying. You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I am not sleeping in my boss’ bed!” Julian yelped, cheeks growing hot.

“Fine. You take the couch.”

Julian looked back outside and saw a tree nearly bend in half before rising back up. He jerked his head down to look at himself. His button down and trousers were dripping from doing the dishes.

"Could I borrow some clothes?" He asked quietly. 

Geralt seemed to stare down at him for a long moment before the man moved. Confused, Julian followed him. He nodded towards the bathroom. "Go ahead and shower," he said. "I'll find something that will be more comfortable for you."

"Uh, thanks," Julian said as the other man turned and left the room. He stepped into the bathroom and looked around.

The bathroom wasn't new to him. He'd been cleaning it for a few weeks now. But the idea of actually using the shower was different. He stared at it till a knock on the door made him jump.

When he opened it, Geralt stood on the other side holding a stack of clothes. He handed it to him wordlessly before walking away. Julian looked down at the clothes and found a towel and washcloth on top. He bit his lip and looked to the room that Geralt had disappeared into. "Thanks," he whispered before closing the door again.

He turned back and laid the clothes down on the closed toilet lid. He turned the water on before stripping and stepping into the water, cloth in hand. 

Julian sighed as the heat loosened his muscles, and the water washed away most of his worries. He hummed a tune as he poured soap on the cloth and began to wash. It smelled nice. Woodsy. He imagined going up to Geralt and sniffing his neck, smelling the scent as he licked the skin before him. He bit his fist as his cock swelled. He glanced at the closed door. Geralt couldn't hear him and it wouldn't hurt. Maybe it would rid Julian of some of his awkwardness.

He wrapped a hand around himself and gave a few pulls. He dropped the still soapy cloth over a rail and reached up, pinching a nipple. He sighed and imagined Geralt before him in the water, mouthing his neck. His hips jerked.

Pulling on his cock, he reached behind himself and circled a finger around his hole.

The arch of his body felt stiff and clumsy, but somehow made it better.

Slowly, he pushed a finger inside himself, and bit back a groan. 

He wasn't going to last long; he knew as he worked himself. There was always something exciting and terribly arousing about possibly being caught. He worked himself feverishly, biting back groans. He twisted his wrist in that way he liked and nearly collapsed against the wall with how hard and sudden he climaxed. He leaned against the wall, catching his breath. With shaking hands, he finished washing himself and turned the water off.

After he dried off and dressed, he glanced in the mirror. His cheeks were still pink, but could be easily explained by the heat of the shower. 

He stepped out of the bathroom and found Geralt fixing bedding for the couch. Steaming plates of the chicken and a casserole that Julian had made sat on the table.

Geralt looked at him and back down where his hands were straightening a sheet, a blush tinting his cheeks. Julian stilled. He hadn’t made any noises loud enough for the man to hear, right?

“You should eat before it gets too late.”

“Thank you,” Julian said as they sat on opposite sides of the couch. They were silent as they ate, and he poked at the last few bites.

Geralt cleared his throat. “Would music make you more comfortable?”

“Uh, yeah. Do you have a radio?”

The other man snorted as he pulled out his phone. “I’m not completely technophobic,” he said as he tapped at the phone. The sound of a guitar strumming and a gentle voice accompanying filled the room.

Julian relaxed into the arm of the couch. He set the plate down on the table and fiddled with the edge of a blanket.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have a TV,” Geralt said. “I can try to get you something to keep you entertained. A guitar, paper, anything.”

Julian shook his head. “I don’t play any instruments, but some paper and a pencil would be wonderful.”

Geralt seemed to freeze for a second. “Of course,” he whispered as he stood and crossed the room. He returned with a yellow notepad and a few pencils. He handed it to him without a word before he sat down again and pulled his typewriter closer.

Julian sketched quietly, shapes and shades taking form. He rarely sketched anymore for fun. There was always some plan for it and a deadline. This, this was calming. 

At least, it was till he  _ really  _ looked down at the paper and saw Geralt’s profile. He yelped and slammed the notebook shut.

Geralt looked at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing,” he squeaked. “I-I think I’m going to try to sleep.”

Slowly, Geralt nodded. “I’ll leave you then,” he said before he stood. 

“Geralt,” Julian blurted. He looked down at him, his expression surprisingly gentle. “Thank you again.”

He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

Julian watched him leave the room and looked down at the notebook again. He opened it to the sketch and looked at it again. The portrait was detailed, and the beginnings of a background had taken shape. He tilted his head. Oddly, the Geralt of his drawing wasn’t wearing the soft-looking sweater that real Geralt was. It looked more like armor. His mouth was turned down and sorrow lined his eyes. He looked lonely and sad. Julian’s heart ached to comfort him.

Julian shook his head and closed the sketchbook. He stretched out and covered his legs with a blanket. He laid his head down on the pillow and listened to the rain. Sleep claimed him quicker than he thought possible.

* * *

He woke with a flash of lightning. Rain still lashed the windows, and he could hear the heavy wind. He sat up, rubbing a hand through his hair until he heard the voice.

“Yen, it’s not him.”

Julian looked up, and the door to Geralt's room was cracked open. No light was on, but he was sure that it was the man who had spoken.

“Jaskier is dead, Yen. It’s been hundreds of years. He’s not coming back,” he said. “I know Julian looks like him, but he’s not him.”

The world spun. Jaskier? Yennefer? He knew those names now that he heard them together. He grabbed his phone from the table and lit the screen.

The papers that Geralt was always working on were still on the table. He pulled the sheet on the top of the stack closer to him and was nearly sick.

Geralt was Grant Rivia. He was the Geralt of the story. Jennifer, because it had to be her he was talking to, was Yennefer. And Jaskier? These people were crazy. The books that Geralt had written were fiction. Monsters and mages didn’t exist.

He stood as quietly as possible and crept to the door.

“I loved him,” Geralt said, his voice cracking. 

Julian leapt for the door and ran outside to his bike. A porch light turned on behind him, but he kept running till he'd torn the cover off and swung his leg over the bike and started it. He risked a glance behind him and saw Geralt standing, framed in the doorway’s light. He turned and sped away.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid,” he muttered to himself. Who took a job offer from a complete stranger? Who spent the night at his boss’ house when the man was still a fucking stranger?

Lightning flashed. There was a deer in the road. Julian jerked to dodge it, and the bike swerved off the road and into the brush. He hit a rock and went airborne.

Julian slammed into the ground, the air pushed from his lungs. His whole body ached, and there was a sharp pain in his shoulder and arm. He gasped and let out a choked sob.

Then there were footsteps.

Julian bit his lip, trying to keep his whimpers down. He didn’t want Geralt to find him. But, if he didn’t, who would? “Help,” he cried. “Please help!”

A hooded figure stepped into sight, holding up a lantern. He heard the woman whispering. 

“Please,” he whimpered.

The woman knelt beside him, and he looked up into her face under the hood. Her dark face was impassive as she reached for him.

He cried out as the knife she held cut into his arm. She caught his blood in a bowl, still whispering in a strange language that he didn’t understand. She mixed whatever was in the bowl with his blood together and brought it up to his lips. Ignoring his protests, she poured it into his mouth and held his mouth shut until he swallowed the vile concoction.

“Thank you, Jaskier,” she said as she stood and walked away, leaving him alone in the darkness.


	4. Loving Can Hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Hurt/Comfort
> 
> I'm really glad that I finished the edits before sleeping. Once again, please check the tags. This is the chapter where the warnings start to come in.

“I loved him,” Geralt said, his voice cracking.

“I know you did,” was Yennefer’s simple reply. “And I know how hard it was to let go last time. But, Geralt, it’s him.”

“N-,” Geralt started to say before he froze as he heard a sound out in the main room.

The door slammed shut. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, dropping his phone to the bed and running out of the room. He slammed his hand against the switch, turning the lights on. Julian was gone. 

He threw the door open so hard that it rattled against the wall and the glass broke.

Julian turned to look at him as he reached his bike, and his expression froze Geralt’s broken heart. Fear. The one emotion his Jaskier had never directed towards him on a face so much like his. He turned back, started the bike, and rushed away.

Geralt sagged against the door frame long after the man disappeared. He focused on his breathing, filling his thoughts with the simple repetition of in and out. In and out.

“Geralt. Geralt,” a voice broke through his haze. Gentle hands cradled his jaw. 

He looked up into Yennefer’s face. Her hair was sticking to her face and neck from the rain. 

“He left,” he finally rumbled. “I scared him off.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. 

Geralt closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the door frame. “I’m so tired, Yen.”

“I know. Let’s get you to bed.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

She bit her lip and nodded. “I know that, too.”

He let her lever him up and to his bed. They lay down together, listening to each other’s breathing and the rain. They’d lived so long and, though the passion between them had cooled long ago, they were still each other’s sole companion. 

Geralt sighed. “Thanks for trying, Yen,” he whispered before he fell asleep.

She stared at him. Yennefer knew that Geralt was older than her and that the years weighed so much more on the witcher. But in all their years together, she’d never once believed that he would break his last promise to Jaskier. But it crossed her mind, watching his sleeping face, that he one day may not be able to make the choice to keep his promise.

She curled up against him and his arm tightened around her instinctually. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered.

The rain stopped sometime during the night.

Geralt sat up and looked out the window. The field of wildflowers always reminded him of Jaskier and was a reason he had chosen to build on this land. Water droplets clung to petals and blades of grass. It was a sight that would have taken the dead man’s breath away.

Yennefer was still asleep beside him, her face creased with worry. He stroked some hair away from her closed eyes. 

“You can rest longer,” she whispered.

He shrugged before standing. “I need to find Julian and apologize. Somehow.”

She opened her eyes and sat up as he began changing his clothes. “I can make him forget,” she offered quietly.

His hands stilled, holding his clean shirt. “No, Yen. I need to do this.”

She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled the shirt on and sat beside her. “I know you’re worried about me, but I will not be leaving anytime soon. I promised him and I promise you.”

She bumped against him. “I miss him,” she admitted. 

“So do I,” he said. 

Geralt stood and left the house. He walked along a track that his boots had worn into the ground to a building beneath a large oak tree. “Roach!”

A dun mare trotted over from where she had been grazing. She nuzzled against him, and he patted her neck. “We’ve got to go find our friend,” he told her.

She followed him as he continued to the stable and snorted at the tack. She stood still as he saddled her and climbed on her back. She tossed her head and walked out of the stable on her own. 

They used the trails that Geralt had made on the mountain. He trusted them more than the road that the humans had made. It was peaceful and reminded him of when he used to roam the continent.

All too soon he was on the edge of the city that was closest to Julian’s apartment. He left Roach in the trees, trusting her to stay there, and followed the streets to his destination.

As soon as he stood near the door, Geralt knew that Julian wasn’t there. His scent was stale and his motorcycle was nowhere in sight. He turned and jogged back to Roach and mounted up.

The road had been washed out. He had told Julian that. But the young man had been upset and afraid. 

“Come on, Roach,” he said, guiding her to the road. He searched the area for any sign of Julian. They passed where the mud clogged the road and Geralt dismounted to check for any tire tracks. He found none and they continued on. 

They were less than a mile away from Geralt’s home when he smelled blood.

He searched harder and saw where there seemed to be a gap in the brush along one side of the road. He dismounted and carefully crept closer to the drop-off.

Julian’s crumpled form lay at the bottom. 

“Shit,” he said as he pulled Roach to a safe spot away from the road and ran back. He dialed Yennefer’s phone as he made his way down. 

“Geralt? Did you find him?”

“He’s hurt,” he said. “He had to have had an accident.”

“Where are you?” she asked.

“Less than a mile away from my cabin,” he said as he passed the motorcycle. The wheel was bent and pieces had been torn away. It didn’t look promising for its rider.

“I’m on my way,” she said and hung up.

“Julian,” he said as he reached the man. He lay on his side, legs splayed out. His clothes were soaked and dead leaves and dirt clung to him. He touched his shoulder and felt how chilled his skin was. But Julian opened his eyes and stared up at him.

“Geralt,” he whispered and smiled dazedly. “I knew you’d find me.”

His mouth dropped open in surprise.

“My witcher,” he whispered, closing his eyes again.

“Don’t go back to sleep,” he rumbled finally. “Are you hurt?”

The man shifted and groaned. “My arm, I think. And my head.”

Geralt inspected his arms. One was obviously broken and the other bore a long cut that was too straight to be made by any natural thing. He reached into his boot and drew out a knife, cursing himself for not carrying any other weapons. 

A portal opened and Yennefer stepped out beside them. “How is he?” she asked as she knelt down.

“ _ He _ is in a lot of pain and would gladly like to be rid of it now,” Julian said.

Yennefer’s head jerked up to stare at Geralt, her eyes wide. ‘Does he remember?’ she mouthed silently.

‘I don’t know,’ he mouthed back.

“If you two are finished conversing about me, there is some healing to be done,” the man between them snarked.

Despite himself, Geralt smiled. Yennefer snorted and rolled her eyes. She ran a gentle hand over his hair.

“We’ll get you back to Geralt’s and sleeping this off,” she said as she moved her hands over the man’s arms. He sighed and seemed to relax.

“Does anywhere else hurt?” Geralt whispered to him.

He hummed and shook his head, his breaths evening out. 

“Can you carry him through the portal?” Yennefer asked, rocking back on to her heels.

He nodded, carefully gathering the man into his arms. He looked down at the man as they passed through the portal Yennefer opened. Julian looked so young as he nuzzled against him in his sleep. And so much like Jaskier.

He laid him down on his bed and stepped back, watching. Yennefer leaned against him, her eyes also on the man. “What could make him act like him?” he finally asked.

She shrugged. “I’ve never heard of this,” she responded. “I had hoped, of course, that maybe he would remember as he spent more time around us. Perhaps the head injury and the shock of the accident jogged his memory?”

Geralt grunted, and they watched silently for several minutes more. “Did you see the cut?”

Yennefer frowned. “Yes. You felt the magic, too?”

He nodded. “It smelled rotten.”

“I can ask Triss if she’s heard about any other sorceress’,” she said. “There’s not many of us left. It has to be one of them.”

He nodded, turning away. “Can you send me back? I need to bring Roach back.”

Yennefer bit her lip, but opened the portal for him. “You still don’t think it’s him, do you?”

Geralt stopped a step away from the portal, staring at the greenery before him. “Jaskier died. I cannot force Julian to be him just because I miss him.”


	5. I Will Remember How You Kissed Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Five: Realization
> 
> To be honest, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Possibly the most out of all of them. I apologize if it's confusing.

Jaskier woke up with a monster of a migraine. He scrunched his face at the light he saw through his eyelids till it dimmed around him.

“Is that better?”

He cracked his eyes open and blearily focused on Yennefer.

Wait. Jennifer. 

Julian blinked and looked around him. He was lying in Geralt’s bed. Jennifer was looking down on him. She looked like she always had with her dark hair and violet eyes.

Violet eyes?

“Yennefer, what’s happening to me?” Jaskier asked, rubbing his hands through his hair.

She sat down beside him and touched his shoulder. “What’s your name?”

“Jas-Julian,” he pulled at his hair. “Fuck, I don’t know! Yen!”

She wrapped her hands around his and eased them from around his strands of hair. He leaned into her, breaths shuddering in and out. “It’s been a long time.”

He laughed hysterically and groaned. “Jennifer, my head  _ aches _ .”

“I know. I’m sorry,” she said, kissing his brow. 

He looked up into her face. “Yennefer, your magic. Please. Take the pain away."

"I wish I could," she whispered. He groaned, dropping his head to her shoulder. "I don't have anything here that would help and I can’t leave you here alone. Your memories of your past life and your current one are mixing. They should settle soon."

"How do you know that?" 

"I don't," she replied. "I'm sorry."

He whimpered, closing his eyes tight.

"Yen?"

Jaskier felt the woman turn in his arms. "Geralt, come here and hold him."

The room was silent until he whimpered again. Heavy footsteps came closer, and Jennifer's smooth arms were replaced by much larger ones. Julian collapsed against Geralt's chest.

"I'm going to make a potion to relieve some of his pain, but my ingredients are at home," she said. "Try to keep him calm."

Geralt's arms tightened around him as her footsteps faded away. "She'll bring something to help," he murmured.

Jaskier nodded, his hands gripping the other man's shirt. "I missed you," he whispered.

"What?" Geralt choked out.

He picked his head up and stared at him with wet eyes. "I missed you. It's been too long," he said and leaned forward, pressing their lips together.

Geralt stiffened before gently pushing him away. "Julian, you're confused. I can't take advantage of you."

Jaskier groaned, his head falling down to the man's shoulder. "Why do you have to be so  _ good  _ now?"

"Julian, I-"

“It’s me, Geralt. It’s me,” he said and looked up into the man’s face.

“No,” he said as he gently wiped a tear from Jaskier’s face.

“But-”

“Jennifer’s bringing you something that will ease your pain and you won’t have to see either of us again after this,” he said. 

“No, Geralt, why can’t you accept that it’s me?”

Geralt’s jaw clenched. “Julian, you just look like a man I used to know and have written about. You must have hit your head and gotten confused.”

Yennefer came huffing into the room, but froze at the sight of them. Neither of them noticed her. 

“How can I convince you that I’m Jaskier?” he cried and winced.

Geralt’s face twisted. “Then tell me something only he would know,” he growled.

Jaskier flinched at the sound, more tears falling from his eyes. He finally spoke in a whisper. “You liked it when I would braid your hair. And during sex you like your hair pulled. But you told me you didn’t trust anyone but me to have you at their mercy.”

Geralt pushed him back into the bed and stalked away, pushing past Yennefer without a word. She followed him out with her eyes as he left the cabin completely. She looked back at Jaskier, who had curled up into the fetal position.

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

He nodded miserably, keeping his eyes closed. 

She sat down beside him and pushed a flask into his hand. It was cool to the touch. “Drink,” she whispered.

He tilted his head back on the pillow and swallowed the potion in one gulp. It tasted like chalk and radiated cold throughout his body. He sighed as his head began to ease.

“Are you Julian or Jaskier?” she asked.

He finally opened his eyes and stared at her. “I’m both,” he said, his lips barely parting.

She nodded and squeezed his thigh. “It’s good to have you with us again,” she said.

He snorted and his eyelids drifted shut. “‘M sleepy.”

Yennefer took his hand, rubbing a thumb over the back of it. “My potion will make you sleep while your mind gets used to all your old and new memories.”

He nodded, turning his head and snuffling into the pillow. “Thanks, Yennefer,” he whispered as he fell asleep.

She watched him sleep with a smile on her lips. Snores started to escape his lips, and she laughed. Some things never changed and she was thankful for something so small like him still snoring.

She rose to her feet and followed Geralt out. He stood at the edge of his porch, Julian’s ruined bike beside him.

“Why do you still not believe that it’s him?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I know it’s him.”

“Then why are you acting like this isn’t a miracle? Our friend—your lover—is back from the  _ dead _ .”

“Because someone did this and didn’t stay. No one is that altruistic,” he said.

“We’ll figure out who it is and protect him together,” she said, laying a hand on his arm. “There’s more. I know you, Geralt. You’re not telling me everything.”

He dropped his head forward, closing his eyes tight. “I’ve lost him once, Yenn,” he finally whispered and looked up at her. “What do I do when I lose him again? He will grow old and die and I will have to watch  _ again.  _ He’s just a human. And I’m the immortal witcher with no monsters to kill.”

“You mean no monsters to kill you.”

He looked away. “I’ve lived in a world without him. I don’t want to do it again.”

She shook her head. “He wouldn’t want you to think of it that way.”

He turned back to her. “How else am I supposed to think of losing him again?”

“Geralt,” she whispered, stepping to his side. “You can spend your lives together again. We’ll find a way.”

“Yennefer,” he growled back. “Magic isn’t always the answer. Haven’t you realized it by now? Nothing should live forever. Magic made us this way. We’re cursed to always lose whatever we hold dear. I would never wish that fate on him.”

She watched as he stomped away from her. She couldn’t really disagree completely.


	6. Chapter Six: You Know it Can Get Hard Sometimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally ask, but please leave a comment. Today's going to be an incredibly long day and I'm so damn sleepy.

It was growing dark when Jaskier woke. He stretched and wiggled in the bed. This inn had such nice beds. And it smelled nice, too. Like Geralt. Like their bedroll.

He opened his eyes and searched for the man. He wasn’t there, but he noticed that the room didn’t have the normal furnishings most rented rooms had beyond the bed, but that could be forgiven considering how  _ comfortable  _ it was.

Yennefer knocked at the door frame as she came in. At the sight of her, his world lurched. He remembered that he was Jaskier, but he was also Julian and the world was very, very different.

“Feeling better?” she asked as she sat down beside him.

“Yeah,” he said, sitting up. “My headache is gone. I might need some time before everything makes sense again, though.”

“Understandable,” she agreed.

“Where’s Geralt?” he asked.

“In the kitchen,” she said.

“Can he hear us?” he whispered.

Her eyes narrowed and she raised her hand and wrote a symbol in the air that hung, glowing, between them for several seconds before it faded. “He can’t now.”

“The last thing I remember as Jaskier is making you both promise to take care of each other. He’s… not the same. What happened?” he asked.

“You did.”

“What?”

“Jas-Jul-,” she huffed. “What do you want to be called now?”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Tell me,” he said. She glared at him. “Fine. I feel more like Jaskier right now.”

“Okay, Jaskier,” she said, nodding. “You died. Geralt was heartbroken. All he could see was an eternity before him without you.”

“But he had you and Ciri.”

She nodded. “But it wasn’t the same. He kept going for us, but you were the most important person to him. Then he lost Ciri.”

“How-?”

Yennefer’s face softened. “Old age, just like you. Geralt could protect you both from almost anything except growing old.”

Jaskier sat back against the pillow, frowning. “How have you been?”

She shrugged. “I just got my best friend back. I’m doing better.”

Jaskier grinned. “Doesn’t mean you’re going to keep being so nice to me, right? It’s  _ weird.” _

She laughed. “No,” she said, shaking her head as she moved to sit beside him. “We’ll be bitching to each other before you know it.”

He snorted and laid his head down on her shoulder. “Yennefer?”

“Yeah?”

He stared down at her dress. “I’m still mortal.”

“I know.”

“He’s upset because I’m going to die, isn’t he?” 

She sighed. “Yes, Jaskier.”

He threw an arm over her waist and clung to her. “I don’t want to leave him.”

She hummed a moment. “There may be a way. We could try to make you like us. But living so long comes with heavy prices.”

He rose onto his elbow. “Really? I’ll pay any price.”

She nodded, but her brows had drawn together. “We have time. I think this is the youngest I’ve ever seen you. We’ll find the safest way.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I’m eighteen. The same age I was when I met Geralt. That may not seem to be that old to an eternally young and sexy witch, but I’m not a child.”

Across the room, a throat cleared.

Jaskier and Yennefer both looked up and saw Geralt across the room, holding a tray with three plates. He was frowning and shifting his weight. It was the most uncomfortable Jaskier had ever seen him. 

“I heated something for all of us to eat,” he said, refusing to look at them.

“Geralt,” Jaskier yelped as he jerked back from the woman.

The man shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ll leave your plates here and go eat in the kitchen.”

“Geralt,” he repeated as he stumbled out of the bed. The man set two plates on the dresser by the door and backed out of the room. “Stop, you stupid, self-sacrificing man,  _ stop _ !”

To Jaskier’s surprise, he stopped just outside the room, setting his plate down on the table. Jaskier stumbled into his back and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I still love you, stupid.”

“It’s okay,” he growled. “You always liked women. This version of you probably likes them as well.”

“Actually, Julian was a flaming homosexual,” he said, turning the larger man to face him. “Geralt, I know what it looked like, but me and Yennefer are not like that. It was just good to see our best friend again.”

He snorted. “You two couldn’t stand each other. You argued until the day you died.”

“That was our relationship, idiot. If Yennefer really didn’t like me, do you think she would have let me close to Ciri?” he asked.

Geralt finally looked at him, and Jaskier sighed in relief. “No,” he finally said.

Jaskier dropped his head to the man’s chest and held him close. He felt arms wrap around him. “I missed this. I’ll not leave you again.”

“Jask.”

He shook his head. “I don’t care how. It’s my choice. I’m not going anywhere now that I have you back.”

“Forever’s a long time.”

“I hope you enjoyed your peace and quiet. You’ll never get it again.”

“It would be worth it,” he whispered as he dipped his head down and pressed his lips to the younger man’s. 

Jaskier sighed into this kiss, feeling it fizzle through his body. Until he was nudged from behind. He pulled back and turned to see an amused Yennefer.

“If you two are done with your reacquainting, I need to ward the cabin and get back to my bed,” she said, arms crossed in front of her.

Jaskier glanced up at Geralt and grinned. “I don’t know if I would say that we’re done, but we’ll get out of your way.”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but his breath escaped his nose in a laugh as he pulled Jaskier back into his chest. “I’ll make him behave tonight, Yenn.”

“Good,” she said, nodding. “No canoodling till we’re sure that he’s safe.”

“But-”

“No canoodling,” they said together.

Jaskier deflated and crossed his arms in a pout.

“Thanks, Yen,” Geralt said as she passed them.

“My pleasure,” she said. “Food would probably shut him up.”

“Rude,” he told her retreating back.

She waved her hand and closed the door behind her.

“She is right, though,” Geralt said. “You need to eat.”

“Okay,” he agreed, with a roll of his eyes and a smile on his lips. “Do you want to eat out here?”

Geralt nodded, and they got their plates and sat down on the couch. Jaskier’s eyes fell to the stack of papers and he looked up at the books in the bookshelf.

“Grant Rivia, huh?” he said. “You used our adventures for your books?”

Geralt pushed some vegetables around on his plate. “Yeah,” he finally said. “Is that okay?”

Jaskier hummed. “Of course. I loved them when I was Julian. I’m just surprised at how much you’ve written.”

“I may have had a little help,” Geralt admitted. Jaskier cocked his head to the side. “Your diaries. I started reading them after Ciri passed. They gave me comfort. It was like having you back.”

Jaskier leaned into his side. “I’m back now.”

Geralt kissed his hair. “I’m happy that you are.”

Jaskier wiggled against him with a hum before settling to eat again. “Where’s all the monsters? I would expect to see more bones and stuff around. I didn’t see any before.”

Geralt shrugged. “They disappeared, probably hunted into extinction. They were already becoming rare when we were together.”

He nodded. “That reassures me.”

Geralt snorted and set his empty plate on the table. Jaskier did the same and paused with his hand poised over the notebook he had used the night before.

“Were you writing poetry or something?”

“No,” Jaskier said and pulled it closer. He opened it to the sketch he’d made of Geralt. He looked up at the man. “I drew you.”

Geralt raised his fingertips to the portrait, hovering above it. “The mountain,” he rumbled. “Of all the things you could remember about us it had to be that damned mountain.”

“Geralt,” he said. “I didn’t remember what happened. I just knew you looked sad. I felt the same as when I tried to comfort you when we stood on that mountain.”

The man turned and pressed his face into Jaskier’s hair. He held him tight.

“Besides,” Jaskier continued. “It wasn’t even a full day later that you followed me down and begged for my forgiveness. On your knees if I remember right.”

Geralt snorted and finally pulled back. “I didn’t beg.”

“But you were on your knees when you pressed me to that tree. And I heard you apologize,” he said, nudging him with a shoulder.

Geralt rolled his eyes, but was smiling. He stood and pulled Jaskier to his feet. “Come to bed,” he said. “You need your rest.”

“Only if you promise to stay,” he said, digging his heels in. 

Geralt raised an eyebrow just before Jaskier found himself suddenly in the air and thrown over his shoulder. He watched Geralt’s butt as the man carried him to the other room and lightly smacked it. Geralt growled and tossed him on the bed and hovered over him.

Jaskier swallowed. His pants were tighter than was comfortable. 

“You’re hopeless,” he growled. 

Jaskier grinned. “Only for you.”

Geralt dipped down and kissed him hard on the lips, before laying down beside him, his arm thrown over his waist.

Jaskier sighed and pulled the blanket over them and settled back against Geralt. “Good night,” he whispered.

“Sleep well.”

Jaskier fell asleep quickly, but his dreams were dark and a robed figure seemed to haunt him. He woke with her words echoing in his ears.

_ “I can make you immortal.” _


	7. And Time’s Forever Frozen Still

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day Seven: Destiny
> 
> This one got a bit longer than I planned originally. And took longer with some very busy days of work (and a smashed finger that I can oddly type with, but working with was uncomfortable). Thank you for your patience! I look to get the next chapter out as quickly as possible, because I'm really excited for the conclusion of this story!
> 
> Also!!! Thank you for all of the reviews for the last chapter! You guys made the day absolutely awesome! Along with some brilliant news that I received a job offer!

Jaskier stumbled through the forest, his bare feet cold and aching from the rocks and sticks that littered the ground. He paid it no mind, his mind oddly fogged. He could only hear the voice calling to him, over and over.

_ “I can make you immortal.” _

He pushed through the brush and saw a bonfire in the middle of a clearing. The robed woman stood in front of it, her hood pulled off to show her outline and her closely cropped hair. It was her voice, he now knew. When she smiled, there was a glint off her teeth as sharp as the edge of a razor.

Jaskier’s mind cleared and he doubled over, gasping. His body ached like he’d had a hard workout. “What am I doing here?”

“I can make you immortal.”

“Yeah, I figured as much from the mantra I heard on my way here,” he said, straightening. He held a hand to the stitch in his side. “You’re crazy.”

“I brought back your memories,” she said as she came closer. He could see her face now that the fire wasn’t at her back. “Do you still doubt me, Jaskier?”

His mouth twisted. “Fringilla,” he growled. “Correction, you’re batshit crazy. Still smarting after Nilfgaard’s loss?”

Her eyes narrowed. “That was a bad time for me, but age gives wisdom. I’m offering a way to make you and your witcher happy. To atone.”

“I don’t think I can trust you.”

She shrugged. “Then don’t. But Yennefer will never find this spell or any like it. They will watch you wither away once again.”

Jaskier watched as she walked away from him. He glanced back the way he thought he’d come and took the first step back before he stopped. 

Geralt needed him. 

Yennefer needed him.

Could he really make them watch as he died? Again?

How long would it take Yennefer to find whatever spell would keep him with them? How old would he be? Could she find it?

He turned back and Fringilla was standing by the fire, a large bowl on the ground before. He still didn’t trust her.

“What would I have to do?”

She turned back, a smug look on her face. “I need your blood. You must willingly add it to the ingredients in the bowl,” she said, nodding towards it.

“And that’s all?” he asked.

Fringilla nodded and he came closer. She handed him the same knife as before and he stared down at the blade. It looked incredibly sharp in the firelight.

He glanced down at the bowl and saw a feather that seemed to have its own light, a lump that looked dark and bloody, and the body of an eel.

“How are these supposed to make me immortal?”

Fringilla sighed and waved a hand. “Light from the full moon to fuel the spell, a phoenix feather for rebirth and longevity, a placenta for life, and an eel from Aretuza, the most magical place on Earth. And blood willingly given from the recipient.”

Jaskier’s stomach lurched at the word placenta. “So all I need to do is bleed into this bowl? How much?”

She shrugged. “I believe we’ll know when it works.”

He nodded and gulped. He rolled up his sleeve and held the knife to his arm. He inhaled and slid the blade across his forearm with a hiss. It burned as the blood dripped down into the bowl. He breathed through his nose, willing away sudden nausea. 

“How will we know?” he asked and turned to her.

As she opened her mouth, the ground beneath them rumbled and shook. With a smirk, Fringilla dipped down and threw the bowl into the bonfire.

Jaskier stumbled to his knees, fear closing around his heart. He stared up at the woman whose demeanor had changed entirely. She was once again the Fringilla from his first life, he knew as she cackled above him. He slumped over as the ground quaked again.

“Geralt,” he whispered as he lost consciousness.

* * *

The earthquake woke Geralt.

Magic hung heavy in the air, cloying and thick and  _ rotting _ . Bile rose in his throat. That’s when he realized that Jaskier was gone. The bed beside him had cooled and his scent was becoming stale. He’d been gone a while.

Geralt rolled out of bed and was hit with another wave of stench just before the ground seized beneath him again. He crossed the room and pulled on his boots over his bare feet and pulled his silver sword and satchel of potions out of the closet. He had a bad feeling that he would need them. 

The night was cool, and he felt the hair stand up on his bare chest. It had felt wrong in his room, but outside it felt worse. He gripped the hilt of his sword and stepped off the porch.

“You felt it, too?” Yennefer asked as she joined him.

He looked down at her and the glass sphere in her hand. It sparked with lightning. 

“Where’s Triss?” he asked.

Her lips twisted. “She’s back home, prepping her workroom. If we get hurt, she’ll be ready. Where’s Jaskier?”

He nodded towards the forest. “He was gone when I woke up.”

She sighed. “I bet that bottle of absinthe you hide that he’s in the middle of what’s going on.”

“You drank that the last time you tried to get me to go on a date,” he said as they entered the tree line. 

“I don’t remember that. Are you sure we’re talking about the same one?” she asked.

Geralt snorted. “I had to call Triss to make you a hangover cure and you two slept in my bed. You both were loud.”

“I  _ might _ remember that,” she said. “That was a really good night.”

“I’d disagree, but you bought me my new bed after you broke the old one,” he said. 

Yennefer huffed, and they walked in silence. His back was stiff with tension as they slowly grew closer.

In the quiet, they both heard when Geralt’s medallion started to vibrate. They exchanged a look, but kept walking. As they kept going, it shook more and more violently until it was tugging against the chain around his neck. It pointed in the direction they were heading.

“Magic or something else?” Yennefer whispered.

“Both?”

She nodded and held her lightning ball closer. 

There was a rapid clicking sound just before something large started falling towards them through the trees. Geralt raised his sword as it came closer. Lightning shot from beside him and held the creature suspended in the air for several moments as it danced over the figure of what he could now see was a giant centipede.

He pulled Yennefer out of the way as she stopped casting her lightning, and it fell to the ground and lay motionless. 

They looked at each other, both breathing hard from adrenaline. 

* * *

Jaskier blinked his eyes open and felt his side warmed by the fire. He slowly got to his elbows and knees.

“You’re finally awake now?”

He stared up at Fringilla and spat on the ground. “What did you do?” he growled.

“Oh, you mean what did  _ you _ do, Jaskier,” she said as she knelt in front of him, grinning still. “You cast the spell. You made yourself immortal. And you brought back all the beasties.”

Cold settled over him and he looked at the fire. Shadows emerged from the flames and joined others ringing the clearing. Some he recognized from his travels with Geralt in his previous life. Kikimoras. Drowners. Ghouls. But more he didn’t recognize.

“Why?” he rasped.

“Why?  _ Why _ ?” she repeated. “Why did you help Geralt and that bitch raise an army to destroy Nilfgaard?”

He coughed. “You would have killed them if they hadn't stood up.”

She scoffed and rose back to her feet. “It doesn’t matter anymore. They’re all dead now and you’re back. But your new life won’t be all peace and flowers,” she said as she faced the fire and the monsters that were still emerging. “No, you will spend the rest of eternity running.”

Jaskier looked around and saw the knife from earlier laying a few feet away. He backed towards it slowly. “Why would I run?”

“Because all of these beasties,” she said, raising her arms, “hunger for your blood. They will never stop chasing you. And your beloved witcher will always be a step behind. Every place you go, every person you meet will be savaged. You will never die. You will have to live with your guilt. And Geralt will blame himself as he always does till he’s too slow one day. Poor, poor Yennefer will only be able to watch.”

The knife’s hilt fit neatly into his hand, and he gripped it as Fringilla turned back to him.

“Fitting revenge, isn’t it?” she asked. “You get a taste of what you always wanted, but the price is far heavier than you would have paid.”

“He won’t fall like that,” he said. “Geralt will fight back and find me.”

“You’re wrong, but it doesn’t matter,” she said. “I don’t know how much longer they will wait. I’d start running now, if I were you.”

Several of the creatures began growling as Jaskier rose to his feet and raised the knife. “Reverse it. Release the spell.”

Fringilla laughed. “There  _ is  _ no reversing it. And I knew that the knife was there. You’re welcome to it. You’ll need something to help you.”

He looked around, and some of the beasts stepped closer. 

“Run, Jaskier,” she said.

He turned and ran out of the clearing and heard the many calls behind him as they gave chase. His harsh breath filled his ears as he darted between trees and under branches. He stumbled and fell to his knees. The wind felt like breath on his heels and he staggered back to his feet, running again.

He burst through the trees and whipped his head around wildly, looking at his surroundings. A small child’s play set stood beside him, the swing swaying. A cheery little house stood several meters away, he noticed as he saw a light turn on through a window. The door opened and a dark-haired man only a year or two older than him looked out at him, a young blond woman behind him.

“What are you doing here?” he called out, raising a gun to point at the ground before Jaskier.

His heart beat harder. He couldn’t be sure with the light behind them, but he’d always remembered voices and this one sounded so similar…

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

Jaskier opened his mouth to respond when a blond toddler pushed between the two adults' knees and looked out. She squealed and ran across the lawn to him. He fell to his knees, dropping the knife as far from him as he dared and enveloped her in his arms. “My princess,” he whispered as she giggled in his ear. 

“Let go of my daughter,” the man, Duny, he now knew for sure, said as he came closer. “My wife is calling the police.”

“Papa,” Ciri cried, grinning up at her father. “Yaskee!”

“Ciri, he can’t be your friend,” the man tried to explain. “Your friend is imaginary.”

“No,” she said. “Yaskee!”

“I can explain,” Jaskier said, trying to untangle her arms from around him to no avail. 

A howl split the air, and Jaskier’s blood cooled as Ciri cowered against him. He stood, cradling her in his arms and kissed her hair before he held her out to her father. 

“You need to go back inside. Lock the doors and windows. If you have a basement, hide there,” he said, bowing to pick up his knife.

“What was that?” the man asked, holding his daughter close. 

“I don’t really know,” Jaskier admitted. “But it’s getting closer. You need to go now.”

Duny nodded and ran back inside.

Jaskier looked around for anything else he could use as a weapon. There were some boards near the play set. He hefted one up. It wasn’t very long, but he could use it like a bat.

He remembered Fringilla’s words.  _ “Every place you go, every person you meet will be savaged.”  _

He glanced behind him at the house. Ciri’s house. She had already lived one lifetime full of death. He would not have her experience it again. He faced the forest and the shadows appearing between the trees. He was immortal. He would protect Ciri’s family with his every breath.

* * *

Geralt saw the flames through the trees before he heard the laughter. A cold rage burned in his stomach and began to rise as he pushed his way through the trees. His medallion was quaking against his chest. “Fringilla,” he hissed.

The woman faced him as Yennefer stepped through the trees beside him. Sparks traveled from the ball in her hand up her arms. 

“You’ve missed him,” Fringilla called to them. “Your bard is now running for his life.”

Geralt gripped the sword in his fist tighter. 

“Why are you doing this, Fringilla?” Yennefer asked. “Jaskier hasn’t done anything to you.”

Her face twisted. “He hasn’t done anything to me? Do you forget how with his help you both raised an army? The people believed in him and his blasted songs. It gave them hope to fight us. To defeat us.”

“That was hundreds of years ago,” Yennefer said. 

“And I was alone all of that time!” she yelled. “You had each other and Merigold. I had no one! Everyone I knew and cared about died!”

“So you want revenge,” Geralt said.

“Yes,” she said. “And I finally have it. The little bard will leave a trail of death everywhere he goes until it claims you. And what will he do then?”

“It won’t happen that way,” he said, and he saw Yennefer look up at him out of the corner of his eye. He sent her a quick smile. “Destiny has always favored Jaskier. He’ll live. He’ll fight. And I’ll find him.”

Fringilla growled before reaching back toward the fire and throwing a ball of it at them. Yennefer cast a shield before them that extinguished it.

“Go,” she said, never taking her eyes off the other sorceress. “I’ll take care of her. Keep our bard safe.”

Geralt glanced at the seething Fringilla and nodded. He ran behind Yennefer in the direction that he caught Jaskier’s scent.

“Now, it’s just you and me,” Yennefer said.

Fringilla rolled her eyes. “What are you going to do? Kill me? Surely you know that doesn’t scare me.”

“No,” Yennefer said as she stepped forward, letting her ball of lightning fall to the ground. “You’re right. You were alone. The same could have very easily happened to Geralt. I forgive you for what you did in the past.”

“You have no right to  _ forgive _ me,” she cried.

“I’m not forgiving you for you, but for me,” Yennefer said, walking closer. “I’ve always been selfish. It won’t change now. But we do have a problem.”

The other sorceress glared back at her.

“I can’t forgive you for endangering Jaskier,” she said as she raised her hand. “But I will say thank you for bringing him back to us.”

Fringilla cried out as her body contorted and flames felt like they were licking through her. She gasped when it finally stopped, tears flowing steadily down her cheeks. “What did you do to me?” she rasped.

Yennefer knelt before her. “I’ve closed your connection to Chaos.”

“So I’m to be your prisoner, now?”

Yennefer stood and faced the trees. “Possibly. You better hope that they both come back alive, though. I may have decided not to kill you, but Triss hasn’t and she was very fond of them.”


	8. Wait for me to Come Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning for lots of sex scenes!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got away from me a bit. Did I meant to just about double the word count? Nope. Did I mean for over half of it to be smut? Nope. Is that why it took so freaking long? Yes! Could I have split this into two or even three chapters? Possibly but I didn't really see any good spots to do that with and I really wanted to have eight chapters. I'm not entirely happy with everything, but I'm just so happy to have finished it! If I missed any typos, I'm sorry. It's three a.m. and I have work in a few hours.

Jaskier landed on his back, the air pushed from his lungs. Above him a creature covered in tentacles broke the board he’d hit it with in half. It tossed it away with a roar as it dropped forward, dragging its body closer and closer to him.

He choked as he scrambled for his knife. The stench of its breath was suffocating. He held the knife before him with shaking hands.

A familiar roar filled his ears as the beast’s head was separated from its body. Geralt skidded to a stop before him, shoulders rising and falling with his breaths. His naked back sheened with sweat.

“Hold this,” the man growled, tossing a satchel behind him. Jaskier nearly dropped it, but managed to juggle it and the knife. He heard the bottles clinking together inside and knew it held a supply of Geralt’s potions.

Jaskier looked up as Geralt moved, quick as a flash. He turned, and Jaskier could finally see the man’s face. His eyes were black and the skin around them bruised. Jaskier’s heart beat faster.

Geralt had always been breathtaking when he fought, but he was otherworldly and invincible when he had his potions. A flicker of hope lit in Jaskier’s chest. He’d saved him before.

And, for a while, it seemed that Geralt had the upper hand. The monsters were slower than before, but there were so many. And for each stroke of his sword as time wore on, it seemed to weigh more for the man. Jaskier could see the signs of the potions catching up to his lover. 

A monster broke away from the others and darted at Geralt’s side as he slashed across another’s body. He wrenched the sword from the body and staggered away, barely evading the other monsters.

Jaskier gasped, clinging to the bag as Geralt raised the sword between himself and the monster. It skewered itself on the blade. He put his boot to its chest and pushed it off to meet the next attacker. 

The throng around them had not thinned. If anything, it seemed thicker. Geralt couldn’t last forever. If nothing changed, Geralt would die defending him. He couldn’t let that happen.

A clinking brought his attention back down to the bag in his hands. The potions!

It was a gamble. Even though they wouldn’t kill him anymore (hopefully), they still may not work for him. Could he risk making everything worse?

Jaskier looked up as Geralt was pushed back, his sword between the foaming jaws of a beast. He’d risk anything if it could save the man. 

Geralt grit his teeth, pushing back with all his might. His shoulders and back tensed as he threw the monster back.

Jaskier flipped the bag open and peered at the contents. He vaguely remembered and dismissed most of them as not helpful in their situation. He knew he wasn’t a witcher and most of the potions would be next to useless with him. He was left with two choices. Both Geralt had warned him against even touching. Black Blood and Petri’s Philter. Both highly toxic. Both their only options.

A roar brought his eyes up again. The monsters were closing in around them. His heart beating in his throat, Jaskier looked down at the two bottles in his hands. If he drank the Black Blood, it would kill any monster that tried to eat him. But could he get Geralt to step aside? And, even if he survived the potion, would he be able to survive so many monsters feasting on him?

But Petri’s Philter? Geralt had forbidden him from even being around when he brewed it. But he  _ had _ shown him witcher signs.

_ They lay together, naked in their bedroll under the stars. The night was unseasonably warm and their toes peeked out from under their cover. _

_ Geralt’s hands arranged Jaskier’s fingers, gently holding them in place before letting go. “This is Aard. It’s the sign I use most in fights. You’ve seen it.” _

_ “It pushes things away, right?” he asked. _

_ Geralt nodded as he lifted his hands once more and arranged Jaskier’s fingers again. The younger man winced at the uncomfortable position. “This is Igni.” _

_ “Casting fire,” the bard said. _

_ “Yes,” he said. “A lot of monsters are weak to fire or light.” _

_ Jaskier hummed. “Could I ever use these?” _

_ Geralt shrugged, pulling him closer as he kissed his neck. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ve only ever seen witchers use them.” _

_ Jaskier nodded. Soon Geralt was asleep beside him. He looked back at the fire and raised his hand, the muscles and joints protesting the unusual placement of his fingers. “Igni,” he whispered and the flames leapt for just a moment. _

_ He smiled, snuggled closer to his witcher, and he too fell asleep. _

Jaskier’s hands closed around the green bottle as he put the black one back in its place. He dropped the bag next to him as he rose to his feet. His hands unusually steady, he uncorked the bottle and looked at Geralt’s back. Tilting his head back, he quickly downed the liquid.

“Geralt,” he said, coughing. “Get down.”

The man turned to look at him, leaving his back exposed to the monsters behind him. He opened his mouth to speak. “Get down,” Jaskier shouted as he raised his hand. The monster nearest Geralt was drawing closer to him.

Jaskier arranged his fingers and Geralt dove for the ground beside him, dropping his sword at his feet. He folded himself around his legs. “Igni,” Jaskier whispered.

The fire that billowed from his hand was so bright it made his vision white out. Flames licked his skin as agony ripped up his arm, but he kept it up as screams filled his ears. Some of them were his own. The world moved around him and he felt Geralt’s arms close around his torso.

“Stop Jaskier. You can stop. They’re dead now,” the man was yelling over the crackle around them.

He let his arm fall and cried out as it hit the ground. “Geralt,” he whispered.

“I’m here,” he said, his body shaking as he used one hand to dig in his pack. “I’m here. Just hold on. Don’t die.”

A laugh bubbled up his throat, but caught on a cough. He hacked as Geralt’s arm tightened around him. He brought a bottle to his lips and tipped it till the liquid poured into his mouth.

It was sweet and soothed the aching parts of his body.

“I just got you back,” Geralt whispered into his hair. “I can’t lose you yet. Please let this work. We’ll get you to Triss quickly.”

A breath rattled through his lungs. Jaskier raised his hand. Black flakes were falling away and his skin was turning from the angry shade of red it had been to a much healthier pink. “Geralt,” he breathed.

“I’m here,” he said.

“I’m okay.”

“Soon you will be. Triss should be able to help. She’ll finish healing you. We just have to wait for Yen to get here.”

“No,” Jaskier said, sitting up. He turned back to his witcher, raising a gentle hand to his stubbled cheek. “Geralt, the spell worked. I won’t die.”

“You mean-” Geralt cut himself off, but Jaskier nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “Forever. I promised.”

Geralt pulled him into a kiss, hands firm as he crushed their bodies together. Jaskier trembled against him. 

A scream split the night.

They pulled away from each other and faced the house. No beast had snuck around them and the house was still. The door opened and a young girl ran out.

“Jask, is it?” Geralt breathed.

“Yeah,” he said. “It’s Ciri.”

The child ran into Geralt’s arms and he clung to her. Jaskier quietly wiped away the few tears that escaped.

“Alt,” she said, wrapping her hand in his hair. “Lub you, Alt.”

Geralt bit his lip. “I love you, too, Ciri.”

The child snuggled closer before closing her eyes and going to sleep. Geralt looked up at Jaskier reverently. “I never thought anything like this could happen.”

Jaskier smiled. “You ever had a doubt that we would find our way back to you again?”

“Shut up,” he said without heat, leaning in and smelling Ciri’s hair..

“What the  _ fuck _ is going on?”

Duny and Pavetta were running to them. Duny was staring, his eyes wide, at the smoldering remains and the patches of fire around them. Pavetta was oddly calm.

“It’s complicated.”

Yennefer stepped out of the trees, making a face as she kicked some entrails off her boot.

“What?” Duny asked, incredulous.

She shrugged. “It’s complicated,” she repeated. “But the threat is gone for now, right, Geralt?”

He nodded.

“Great,” she said, clapping her hands. “Well, the fire department is on their way, so let’s get rid of the evidence. Tell me, do you have a gas grill?”

“No,” Pavetta said.

“Well, now you do,” Yennefer said as she waved her arms and the monster remains winked out of existence. “Or, I should say, you did.”

A mangled piece of charred metal appeared a few feet from them. Duny fell to his knees, mouth gaping open. “I’ve gone around the bend,” he whispered. 

“Eh, at least you don’t have bristles this time,” Jaskier said and Geralt shoved him as Yennefer glared at him.

“Geralt, give the child back. We need to leave,” Yennefer said, still staring at Jaskier. He rolled his eyes and stood. 

Geralt looked at them, his brows pinched together as he carefully stood up and moved to Pavetta’s side. 

“You’re Alt, aren’t you?” she whispered so her husband couldn’t hear. 

He cleared his throat. “It’s Geralt, but yes.”

“Could we talk to you?” she asked, her eyes darting down to her husband. “There’re things… Ever since Ciri was born… I  _ remember  _ things that didn’t happen.”

He dipped his head and glanced back at Yennefer. He tilted his head back to her. “You may want to speak to her, too.”

Pavetta nodded as he pushed Ciri into her arms. Geralt turned away and returned to Jaskier’s side, placing a hand on his back. “Where are your shoes?”

Jaskier looked down at his bare feet and winced. He hadn’t noticed them with all the fear and adrenaline. They were covered in mud and blood and several cuts still oozed. “I think I was in a trance and didn’t get them?”

Geralt growled and bent, putting his other arm behind Jaskier’s knees, and lifted him up. Jaskier squawked in his arms, clinging to him. “I’ve got you,” he whispered just low enough that only they heard. “Let me take care of you.”

Jaskier bit his lip, but nodded, and Geralt looked to Yennefer.

She rolled her eyes at them, but opened a portal. “He lives on top of the hill and is nearly always there,” she threw behind her as she went through. The two men followed before she closed the portal.

They stood in the large entryway of what Jaskier was pretty sure was an elegant house. What furniture was there was antique and expensive looking.

“Saving money, Yen?” he asked.

“It’s called class, Jaskier,” she said, leading them through the door. “Not that you would know much of that.”

“Hey!” he said. “I spent some time at court. I know what class is!”

She looked back at him. “And how did you make your grand departures from those courts, again?”

Jaskier opened his mouth to answer and shut it quickly with a pout. “One time. I accidentally sleep with a king’s consort one time and I get a reputation.”

“Oh, it got even better when the two of you dispelled that reputation,” she said, grinning. “All those ladies couldn’t even look at the two of you without blushing.”

“Yen,” Geralt rumbled. “Jaskier.”

They grinned at each other and Yen knocked on a door frame as they went through.

Triss looked up at them and sighed in relief. “You’re both okay.”

“I am,” Geralt said. “Can you look over Jaskier and heal his injuries?”

Movement across the room drew their attention and Geralt’s arms around him tightened. “What is she doing here?”

Fringilla shifted in her chair, glaring at them with her arms crossed.

“We were keeping her in a place where she couldn’t do any harm,” Yennefer said. “I’ll explain later.”

Geralt stared at her a moment before nodding. “I still don’t want her near Jaskier.”

“Let’s go to my workroom,” Triss said, standing. “I need my supplies there, anyway.”

They followed her, leaving Yennefer with the other sorceress. She led them to a small room that smelled like fresh herbs. She pointed them to a set of chairs in the corner as she gathered things off shelves.

“Yen feels guilty that Fringilla was on her own for so long,” she said as she worked. “I’m not sure that I believe her, but Yen limited her ability to do magic. I am going to keep an eye on her, though.”

“Make sure that you do,” Geralt said, rubbing Jaskier’s shoulder. “She’s still dangerous.”

Triss nodded and knelt before Jaskier. He shifted uncomfortably with her attention on him. “I hear that you broke your arm the other day?”

He nodded.

“Can I look at that first?” she asked.

He nodded and she began examining him. A few times she would stop, mutter something, and then move on. He looked up at Geralt, who squeezed his shoulder in reassurance. When she reached his calves, she clucked her tongue and began pouring some concoction on them that burned as she rubbed it into his skin. He hissed as some liquid touched an open cut.

“This will keep it from getting infected and scarring,” she said even as she gentled her hands. “It’ll feel better in a moment.”

He winced and flinched as his skin began to knit back together. “So when did you and Yen get together?”

She huffed a laugh through her nose. “About fifty years after you passed. She brought your witcher to me for healing,” she said, glancing up at them with a grin before returning to her work. “They had to stay a few days.”

“Does that make you a matchmaker, Geralt?” he asked, turning to face him.

He rolled his eyes. “I was unconscious most of that time. They only had each other to talk to.”

“Even if you were conscious, we would have been mostly talking to each other,” she said, sitting back. 

Geralt snorted.

“But I’m finished,” she said, standing. “There may be some lingering soreness for a few hours. You refractured a few spots in your arm, so take it easy on it.”

“I can take him home?” Geralt asked.

She nodded. “Normally I would prefer that you be close, but under the current circumstances, I can’t blame you.”

“Thank you, Triss,” Jaskier said as he carefully stood. His feet held him and only smarted a little.

She waved her hand. “I’m just happy that you’re back.”

They left the workroom and headed for the door when Yennefer called for them to stop. She came through the doorway, a medallion in her hands. “I’ve got something for Jaskier.”

She stopped right before him and slipped the chain over his neck. The medallion came to rest right above his breastbone, cool and heavy. “Is this what I think it is?” he whispered as he gingerly touched it.

She nodded, eyes misty. “Yeah,” she whispered back. “I kept it for you. And it’s now spelled to make you invisible to monsters when you wear it.”

He pulled it to where he could look at the silver. A wolf’s profile was carved into it that matched the one he knew he’d see Geralt wearing if he looked back at him. It was blessedly still.

Jaskier leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Just be safe, bard,” she replied, pushing him back towards the door.

“I’ll do my best,” he said as Geralt opened the door. 

“That fills me with such confidence,” she deadpanned as she leaned into Triss.

Geralt pulled him out the door and shut it behind him. They walked across a field, the grass tickling Jaskier’s legs as the morning sun warmed his shoulders. 

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?” the man hummed as they kept walking.

“I think I might be showing my age,” he paused, thinking. “Or Julian’s… But this is the youngest I’ve been around you.”

Geralt stilled beside him. “How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Fuck,” he muttered.

Jaskier narrowed his eyes at him. “Is that a problem?”

Geralt rubbed a hand through his hair. “No,” he finally said. “It’s just going to be strange. Do you know if you’ll age at all?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I didn’t really ask.”

Geralt snorted.

“But I have all my past memories and it makes me feel older,” he said. “And there is a good thing about my body’s age.”

Geralt raised a brow at him. “And that would be?”

Jaskier jumped over a stick in the grass and sent a grin to the other man. “I have more stamina now. When we, you know.”

Geralt laughed. “Says the man who slept his way across the continent before we got together and then demanded sex as often as possible.”

“Hey!”

“Including several times during hunts.”

Jaskier scoffed. “Can I help how sexy you are? And you weren’t complaining.”

“Yes, I was.”

“Only at first,” he argued.

Geralt gently pushed him against a tree, trapping him between his arms. He stared down at the younger man with a soft, indulgent smile. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Jaskier swallowed, the back of his head brushing against the bark of the tree. “Yes?”

His smile grew. “It might be working.”

Jaskier’s laugh was high pitched and embarrassing. “Well, then.”

“Yes?” Geralt asked, leaning forward.

Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. He swallowed. “You’ll have to catch me,” he breathed before darting under Geralt’s arm. He hadn’t taken more than a step or two when an arm wrapped around his waist. He turned him to face him, but Jaskier kept his eyes on the man’s chest.

“Are you still scared of me?” Geralt asked quietly.

“No!” Jaskier yelped, jerking his eyes up. “It’s just… I… What if it’s not what we remember? What if we’re not the same? You were about to kiss me and I just… I’m scared of losing you.”

Geralt huffed a laugh and brushed some hair out of Jaskier’s eyes. “You will never lose me. I love you. If you decide that you never want to have sex again, I will gladly stand by your side for the rest of eternity.”

Jaskier cracked a smile. “Well, maybe not that long.”

Geralt cupped his cheek in his hand. “Is it okay if I kiss you again?”

Not trusting his voice, Jaskier nodded and leaned forward, pressing their lips together.

Before their kisses had just been kisses. The only specialness about them had been the fondness and love that had grown between them in all the time that they had known each other. There had been heat and want, but they’d both felt that before.

But now? It was like sinking into a warm bath, their muscles tensing and relaxing in the comfort that the other provided. Finally, without any distractions, it was just the two of them and the rest of the world could burn for all that they cared.

Jaskier broke the kiss, breathing shakily. “That… I don’t think I’ll be able to wait till we get back, let alone eternity.”

Geralt’s breath puffed against his cheek. “It’s just a bit farther,” he whispered, his hands drifting down to the other man’s thighs. “I’ll help you.”

He was lifted in the air, his chest pressing against Geralt’s. He wrapped his arms and legs around him, a bubble of a laugh escaping his throat. “Geralt!”

“Hush,” the man said, brushing a hand against his cheek, before returning it to under his thigh. “Just let me take care of you.”

He slowly nodded and laid his head on Geralt’s shoulder as the man began walking through the woods. He felt safe.

He stroked his hands up and down Geralt's back, feeling his muscles tense and release.

Geralt hummed beneath them. "Jaskier?"

"Yeah?" he said, his breath warming the skin of Geralt's neck.

He shivered and repositioned Jaskier against him. "Have you considered that all the changes to us from back then to now may be a good thing?"

"Why do you say that?" he asked, pulling back to look at Geralt. He trusted him to keep them balanced.

"Neither of us are the same. It could be better."

Jaskier hummed. "You could be right. You talk more now. And not just in expletives!"

"I'll drop you on your ass and make you walk the rest of the way on your own," Geralt groaned.

Jaskier tightened his legs around his waist. "Now you would feel bad for hurting my ass."

Geralt gripped an ass cheek in his hand, staring hard into his eyes. "You do this to me on purpose."

Jaskier laughed. "After you tried to make me feel better, I would think my jokes would make you feel better."

Geralt crushed their lips together, and Jaskier melted against him, moaning. "I'm going to spank you," he growled. They both felt Jaskier's cock twitch from where it was trapped between them.

“How much further?” he panted.

A quick flash of teeth and Geralt stepped forward into the light. “We’re here.”

Jaskier blinked. They were on the edge of the field behind Geralt’s house. “You and Yennefer live that close to each other?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “That’s one of her houses. Do you really think Yen wouldn’t live with as much opulence as possible? But I don’t want to talk about her right now.”

Jaskier smiled and moved their heads closer together. “And what do you want to talk about?”

Geralt huffed a breath through his nose and squeezed the hand under Jaskier’s thigh. “I’m not really concerned with talking either.”

Jaskier bumped their noses together. “Then what are you waiting for?” he breathed.

Geralt gripped him tighter and walked as quickly as he could across the field, around the house and through the door. He dropped him on his bed and immediately covered his body with his own, sliding a hand into his hair. The slight tug made Jaskier moan, his head thrown back.

Geralt gazed down at him, hands becoming gentle as they roamed and stroked his soft, delicate skin. He leaned in and lightly kissed his lips. 

“I’m not glass, you know. I’m not going to break. What happened to,” he paused, clearing his throat before lowering his voice into a growl, “I’m going to spank you.”

Geralt groaned and bumped their foreheads together. “I know, I know. Just give me time.”

“No,” Jaskier said, digging an elbow into the bed to raise himself off the bed slightly. “No, I won’t. You’ve never treated me like some fainting lady before, you’re not going to start now.”

Geralt snorted, but nodded. “Fine. Do you remember our word?”

Jaskier grinned, dropping back down to the bed and wiggling beneath the other man. “Of course, I do. Shenanigans.”

“How did I let you talk me into that one?” Geralt rasped as he dipped forward and kissed him hard on the mouth. Jaskier gasped into the kiss and Geralt tangled their tongues together. When the kiss ended, Jaskier was lightheaded and dazed. And, for once, speechless. “Miracles do exist.”

“Oh, shut up and fuck me,” he groaned back, wiggling to get his arms between them. He started undoing his pants until Geralt slapped his hands away.

“Let me do this,” he said, slipping his hands beneath Jaskier’s shirt. He slowly pulled it off, trailing kisses along his chest that made the younger man shiver. “You have less hair now. Do you think it’ll grow in again?”

Jaskier jerked as Geralt licked over one of his ribs. “Maybe if I get any older. Why? Do you miss it?”

Geralt hummed, but nodded against his skin as he slipped the shirt off finally. 

The air was cool and made his skin prickle, but the heat rolling off the man on top of him made the sensation worth it. Especially as his hands fell to the waist of his pants. Geralt pulled both his pants and underwear down his legs, nipping at his skin as it was revealed, but bypassing his rising cock completely. He gripped the sheets beneath him and threw his head back with a low groan. He could feel Geralt’s appreciation for the sight and sound against his shin.

“Do you want me to use my nails?” Geralt asked, his voice low. His hands stilled where they held Jaskier’s pants around his knees. 

Jaskier nodded almost violently. “Oh, yes, please. Geralt, I want to feel you on my skin for days after this.”

Geralt rested his hand on Jaskier's hip and curled his fingers as he pulled them down his thighs. Jaskier keened under him, chest rising off of the bed. “Don’t-don’t stop!” he gasped.

“Gods, you should see yourself like this,” Geralt said, his voice rough. “I’ll get a mirror sometime. Would you like that? To see your own face as I pleasure you?”

“Yes,” Jaskier groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Please, gods, yes!”

Geralt’s nails scraped over a sensitive spot, and Jaskier wiggled beneath him. The silver-haired man grinned like the wolf he had once been called. “Are you ticklish now?”

Jaskier’s eyes flew open. “Geralt, no! Do-”

His fingertips danced over the younger man’s skin, cutting him off as giggles bubbled up his throat. Jaskier writhed and rolled beneath him till he could plant a foot on the bed for leverage and rolled till Jaskier was on top, their bodies flush together. They were both breathing hard and grinning. 

“No fair,” he whispered, burying his hand in Geralt’s hair.

The smile that graced Geralt’s lips was incredibly soft and tender. “I could say the same.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes but leaned down to kiss him. He tugged the silver strands and felt the larger man melt beneath him as a groan filled their mouths.

“Gods, I will never tire of that,” he whispered, their breaths mingling. “Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

He lowered his mouth to Geralt’s ear. “Hold me down and spank me?”

Geralt surged up and pushed him back down on his back. “Do you remember the rules?”

Jaskier nodded as he kicked his pants the rest of the way off. “If it’s too much, let you know. If you stop, there’s no arguing,” he said. A wicked grin stole across his face. “If you make me come before you’re ready for it, our playtime is over and you’ll punish me.”

"Good boy," Geralt said, rolling him over and swatting an ass cheek. He stroked the smooth skin before slapping it again. 

Jaskier gripped the sheets beneath him. “More, please.”

“What was that?”

He pulled his elbows under him and raised his hips off the bed. “Please, Geralt. Throw me across your lap and slap my ass.”

“And what will you do if I do?” he growled.

“I-I’ll be good.”

Geralt snorted, but nudged Jaskier’s legs so that they were over his jean clad lap. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Jaskier smirked back at him. “But you don’t know this version of me as well.”

Geralt smacked his hand just where Jaskier’s ass met his thigh. “A lot may have changed, but you, my bard, trouble will always find you.”

Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, but only a gasp escaped as Geralt lay two strikes across his bottom.

“In the short time we’ve spent together you’ve wrecked your bike, met a pissed off witch, and was cursed by said witch. If anything, you may be better at finding trouble now.”

“I managed to stay out of trouble for eighteen years till I came here,” he griped.

“Really?” Geralt asked, his brow raised.

“Oh, shut up.”

Geralt slapped the roundest part of his bottom and heard the man cry out. He really did have the best reactions still. “I don’t think that was a good thing to say, do you?” he said, stroking the reddening skin. “Answer me, Jaskier.”

He shuddered against him, feeling his skin prickle and tingle. “No, Geralt.”

“That’s better. Now, how should you be punished?”

Jaskier inhaled and groaned as his cock rubbed against Geralt’s thigh, where it was trapped. “Ten spanks,” he finally gasped.

Geralt swallowed and undid the button on his jeans. The zipper unzipped part of the way by itself as his erection grew against it. “Ten? You’ll count them?”

“Yes, Geralt,” the man across his lips bobbed his head.

“If you’re good and take your punishment, you’ll get a treat. If you aren’t, I’ll decide your next punishment,” he said, laying his hand flat on the man’s backside. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” he said, raising his hand and letting it fall. 

“One,” Jaskier gasped. Geralt’s hand fell again. “Two.” Again. “Three.” Again. “Four.” Each sharp slap had him breathing a little harder, rubbing himself against Geralt’s thigh more. A slap was delivered between his cheeks and he jerked, feeling the wetness of his precome against his stomach. “Five.”

“Still doing okay?” Geralt asked.

He gulped and nodded. “Yes, please.”

Geralt spanked him twice, quickly, before stroking the sensitive skin as Jaskier trembled against him. 

“Six and seven,” he whined.

“You’re doing well,” Geralt whispered as he slapped again. “You’re almost there.”

“Eight,” Jaskier whimpered. “Geralt, I-I don’t know.”

“Do you need us to stop?”

He shook his head. “I’m close. Gods, please, Geralt. Give me more.”

“Just two more,” he muttered as he slapped again.

"Nine!" He yelped, arching his back. "Geralt!"

A quick slap and before Jaskier could open his mouth, Geralt had rolled them across the bed. He lay on his back with Geralt between his trembling legs.

"Ready for your treat?" Geralt rumbled.

Jaskier bobbed his head, his chin nearly hitting his chest. 

Geralt smiled as he spread Jaskier’s legs apart further. He ducked down and stared at him through his lashes. He nodded towards the headboard. “I want you to hold the bars. No matter what. Can you do that?” he said, his breath falling against Jaskier’s overheated skin.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, nodding again as he raised his hands above his head. “ _ Please _ .”

“Grip tight,” he said, holding his thighs as he dipped down and licked a stripe up Jaskier's cock. 

The younger man keened under him, back arching off the bed. Geralt glanced up and found that his hands still held the bars tight.

"Good boy," he whispered before wrapping his mouth around his cock.

"Geralt," Jaskier moaned, tossing his head from side to side. 

He bobbed his head, sealing his lips around Jaskier. He held his balls in one hand, massaging and playing with them. 

"Geralt," he gasped, his legs closing around Geralt's head. "Please, I'm so close. Let me come."

Geralt pulled off, wrapping his free hand around the cock and jerking it a few times. "I want you to come in my mouth."

"Please," he sobbed. "Please."

Geralt swallowed down his cock with a hum. Hands tangled in his hair, holding his head where it was as Jaskier panted and moaned above him. He slid his hand from his balls down to his tight hole and rubbed across it.

Jaskier came with a jerk and a hoarse shout, pouring his seed down Geralt's throat. He swallowed till there was nothing left and pulled off of the other man, looking down at him.

Jaskier stared back, his eyes heavy lidded. A flush crawled from his face down his neck. "You didn't come," he rasped.

Geralt stretched, covering his body with his own. "Oh, I will, love," he whispered. He kissed him, soft and sweet. "I just want you to beg for it," he whispered against his lips.

Jaskier groaned low in his throat and slid his hands between them. "Pants off now."

Geralt lifted his body up, his arms on either side of Jaskier’s body. 

"Show off," Jaskier muttered, but undid the zipper the rest of the way. Geralt's erection sprang free as Jaskier pushed his pants down his hips. The head of his cock tapped Jaskier's thigh, and he bit his lip. He pushed the pants as far as he could and glanced down when they caught around their knees. "Why do you still have your boots on?"

Geralt rolled his eyes and sat up, starting to undo the strings on his boots. "I didn't exactly have time to take them off when we got here."

Jaskier bit the inside of his cheek and molded himself to Geralt's back, kissing his neck. "Are you saying you couldn't resist me?"

Geralt kicked his boots and pants off and twisted, pushing Jaskier back down to the bed. "After all this time, do you really think I could?"

"I love you," he whispered back.

Geralt caught a hand in his and kissed Jaskier's knuckles. "And I love you."

Jaskier gasp was nearly inaudible. He'd always known that he was loved, but Geralt had rarely said it. 

A hand patting his side stopped his thoughts. He tilted his head in question.

“Let’s take a bath,” Geralt said quietly, rising to his feet. He held his hand out till Jaskier took it. He led them into the bathroom and had him sit on the toilet lid as he filled the large tub in the corner with steaming water.

“Bring back memories?” Jaskier whispered.

Geralt turned back to him, his expression soft. “We always did like taking care of each other.”

Jaskier smiled and rose, standing so close that they breathed the same air. His hands fell to Geralt’s hips, keeping him close. He kissed him softly, not rushing, and sighed in contentment.

Geralt snorted and, with a roll of his eyes, maneuvered them into the tub, Jaskier’s back to his chest. “My cheesy bard,” he said fondly, pouring water over his shoulders.

Jaskier relaxed into the body behind him, dropping lower into the water. “You say that, but I know that there’s a romantic inside of you.”

“No, he’s sitting in my lap right now,” he said. 

Jaskier groaned and turned in his lap, placing his hands on Geralt’s shoulders. “That, my love, was a terrible joke,” he said, pushing him down under the water.

Geralt broke the water again, sputtering, but heat and humor in his face. “You’re going to regret that.”

“Oh, am I?”

Slowly, Geralt nodded, a grin creeping across his face. 

Jaskier swallowed hard as his cock twitched between them. 

The white-haired man leaned forward, their lips scant millimeters apart. “Let’s clean up and then I want you back in my bed.”

Jaskier shivered at the promise that lay in his words and pulled a sponge from the wall. Trading kisses and caresses, they thoroughly washed each other. Geralt pulled the plug, and they rushed through drying themselves before Jaskier was pulling them back to the bed. 

He lay back, staring at Geralt, as the man crouched over him, kissing every inch of skin he could. He drew back, his lips red with the rush of his blood. "Roll over on to your stomach.”

"Geralt, I thought we-"

He rolled his eyes. "Just do it. I promise you'll like it."

Jaskier huffed and did as asked. "We still need to work on your communication skills."

A pinch to his sensitive bottom made him yelp. "Geralt!"

"You're about to appreciate my skills," Geralt growled as he pushed a pillow underneath Jaskier's hips.

"Geralt-oh!" He trailed off into a moan as the man behind him licked him from his sack to the cleft of his ass. "Yes, please. Do that. Don't stop."

He held his cheeks apart and nuzzled. “If you’re not going to shut up we’re going to play a game to see how much you can take till only nonsense passes your lips.”

Jaskier dropped his forehead down to rest on his arms. “I think I’m going to like that game.”

Geralt nipped at a cheek and rubbed his scruff against his skin. 

“You don’t want me to be able to sit, do you?” he asked. “Your beard is rough.”

Geralt hummed, his breath cool on the wet skin before him. “I cannot deny that I would enjoy having you trapped in my bed.”

Jaskier gasped. “I’d like that to.”

Geralt lay kisses along a trail to his hole, before kissing the twitching ring of muscle itself. He followed it with a gentle lick before he started lapping harder and harder.

“Geralt,” he moaned, body twitching in aborted movements.

“Not good enough,” he rumbled before licking once more and pushed his tongue inside.

Jaskier groaned, trembling beneath him as Geralt tongue fucked him. His legs clenched around the man, moving restlessly.

Geralt reached beneath him and pulled at his cock. A slick finger joined his tongue.

Jaskier cried out, rocking his hips as much as Geralt would allow. He could feel spit wetting the pillow from his gasping mouth. “Geralt,” he breathed.

“Still talking,” Geralt said. He rubbed Jaskier’s inner walls, searching for that one spot that would make his toes curl. “Should I accept it since you’ve only been able to call out my name?”

Jaskier’s entire body drew tight, a gasp falling from his lips.

With a satisfied hum, Geralt buried his tongue alongside his finger once more. Jaskier writhed between him and the mattress, gasps and moans escaping him.

A hand found its way into Geralt’s hair, tugging on the strands. He let it pull his head away. “All okay?”

Jaskier twisted so he could look up at the man and reached up to touch his chest. “I want you inside of me,” he whispered.

Geralt leaned forward, kissing him soundly. “I want to fuck you, believe me, but I have nothing here.”

Jaskier groaned. “I don’t care. We don’t need it.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Geralt argued, brushing hair away from the other man’s eyes.

Jaskier growled as he gripped his hands around Geralt’s shoulders. “I. Don’t. Care.”

A loud pop to their left made them jump. They looked at the nightstand and the comically large bottle of lubricant that sat there, a card propped against it. ‘Have fun!’ was written across it in Yennefer’s elegant script.

“I could kiss Yen,” Jaskier said, pushing Geralt towards the bottle.

He pumped a generous amount into his palm and returned to his neck with a growl. “You will  _ not _ be kissing anyone but me.”

Jaskier tilted his head back as he kissed his throat. “Geralt, are you  _ jealous _ ?”

He licked his collarbone as he pushed a slick finger inside the younger man. “If you keep this up, I won’t let you come.”

Jaskier gasped, his back arching. “You’re so damn lucky and you know it.”

Geralt rose up onto his elbow to look down at the other man. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I do.”

Jaskier pulled him down into a heated kiss, sliding his tongue out to tangle with Geralt’s for several long moments. They pulled away, both breathing hard. “I swear to all the gods in the sky, if you don’t get inside me now I’m going to combust.”

Geralt snorted. “Well, we wouldn’t want that,” he said as he added another finger and started stretching them.

“Gods, there’s no one like you,” Jaskier groaned. He reached down and pulled at Geralt’s erection.

Geralt sucked a bruise into his neck before nipping the tender skin. “Just wait till I have you screaming my name.”

Jaskier clenched as a fingertip stroked his prostate. “Fuck. That’s it. Get in me now.”

Geralt rose to his elbow and pumped more lube in his hand before stroking himself. He settled back between Jaskier’s spread thighs and rested a hand on his hip.

Not willing to wait any longer, Jaskier wiggled down till he felt Geralt’s cock poking near his hole. He grinned and Geralt rolled his eyes, but pushed forward.

Jaskier sighed as he was slowly filled. Geralt was big and they probably should have prepared him better, but it was so worth it. “Like coming home,” he gasped.

Geralt dropped his head to his chest with a groan. “You’re so cheesy,” he muttered.

“I don’t see you disagreeing.”

Geralt rolled his hips and they both moaned. “I couldn’t,” he finally whispered.

Jaskier tugged on a white strand of hair. “As much as I enjoy and want more of this slow sex, I want you to fuck me hard more.”

Geralt jerked his hips, making Jaskier’s cock bounce between them. “Like this?” he rasped, rocking again.

“Fuck yeah,” he said, raising his arm above him to help him push down to meet Geralt’s thrusts. 

They set a brutal pace, their gasps and groans rising in volume as the sound of skin slapping filled the air between them. 

Geralt gripped his hips, no doubt leaving finger shaped bruises, and pulled him up into his lap. “Ride me,” he groaned.

Jaskier bobbed his head breathlessly as he rocked his hips, relishing the sensation of Geralt’s dick thrusting in and out of him. His cock was trapped between them, the friction of their movements driving him mad.

“Geralt,” he gasped, dropping his head to the man’s shoulder. “I’m about to cum.”

“I know,” he said, helping him bounce on his cock. “I’m almost there, too.”

“Come inside me,” he pleaded. “Please, Geralt.”

He nodded and slid a hand between them, wrapping it around Jaskier’s leaking cock. The younger man arched his back, throwing his head back as he came. He clenched around Geralt’s cock and milked his climax from him. 

They came back, leaning against each other to keep sitting up. Jaskier looked up through his sweaty bangs and grinned. “If I had any energy left, I would make you do that again.”

Geralt nipped his neck, before carefully lifting him off his cock. Cum dripped from his hole in a way that was too sexy when they were both so tired. “Insatiable,” he whispered, laying them down and pulling a blanket over their naked bodies.

“Midnight romp when I can move again?” he suggested even as his eyes drifted closed.

Geralt hummed, folding an arm around the man. “So next week?”

A snore was the only response as he too fell asleep.

* * *

The sun woke Jaskier. He was warm and his muscles had a nice ache to them that meant that the night before had been enjoyable. He stretched and hummed as his ass burned nicely. Geralt hadn’t held back on him at all. Those were the best nights.

He blinked his eyes open and looked at the man behind him. Geralt was still fast asleep, his face open and relaxed. His cock was half hard where it lay nestled between his thighs. 

Jaskier shifted and winced. Geralt  _ really  _ hadn’t held back. It would take a while before he could take another pounding from the man, which was honestly disappointing.

Geralt shifted onto his back in his sleep, spreading his thighs and whining low in his throat.

That inspired an idea.

Jaskier pumped lube out onto his hand, thanking Yen again under his breath, before carefully moving between Geralt’s legs. He froze as the man snuffled before falling asleep again, and Jaskier bit his lip to keep from laughing. “Why are you so fucking adorable?” he muttered.

He reached forward and probed at Geralt’s hole, slowly easing a slick finger in. The man sighed and relaxed beneath his hands.

“Gods, you’re absolutely perfect,” he whispered as he stretched the man.

Geralt rarely made a sound more than grunts and groans during sex when he was awake, but when he was asleep he no longer held back the little sighs and moans that would normally be swallowed down. Jaskier had learned this early on in their relationship and exploited it as often as he could. Geralt would never admit to it aloud, but Jaskier knew that he loved being woken up like this.

He pressed a hand to his aching cock when he finally deemed Geralt open enough. He slicked himself up and carefully slid into the other man, looking down into his face.

Geralt’s eyes flickered open and a sleepy smile spread across his face. He hummed, tightening around Jaskier’s cock in a stretch. “Good morning,” he said, his voice husky.

“Good morning,” Jaskier said, rocking his hips.

Geralt hitched a leg up and Jaskier nearly bit his tongue as he slipped even deeper. “Okay, there?” Geralt said smugly.

“When I have full range of motion back, I’m going to fuck you into the mattress,” Jaskier growled.

Geralt groaned, rocking his hips up to meet Jaskier’s thrusts. “Fuck, I love you.”

Jaskier nipped his lips. “I love you, too,” he whispered into them.

Geralt’s head fell back and Jaskier stared down at the long column of his throat before he raised his lips to it.

“Jask, fuck,” he moaned, pulling at his cock between them.

“You’re the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen,” Jaskier whispered as his hips sped up. “I can’t believe that we’re together again.”

Geralt cried out as he climaxed, cum painting both their chests.

Jaskier gasped as he tightened around him and he only lasted a few thrusts more before he spilled inside his lover.

Geralt wrapped an arm around him, pulling their bodies together. He kissed his hair and leaned his head against Jaskier’s as their breaths evened out. 

Jaskier exhaled and made a face when he felt their chest hair sticking together from drying cum. “We need a shower,” he said.

Geralt squeezed him before nodding and sitting up. They made their way to the bathroom and helped each other wash. Geralt finished first and stepped out while Jaskier enjoyed the hot spray of water. When he finally turned the water off and dried himself, he could smell coffee and bacon cooking. Geralt had left a pair of sweats on the counter for him. He followed his nose to the kitchen.

Geralt stood in front of the stove, a mug of coffee in one hand and a spatula in the other. He nudged a cup towards Jaskier and stared back down at the meat cooking.

Jaskier took the cup and wandered to the porch. The morning air was crisp and goosebumps rose along his arms. He sighed as he looked down at his ruined bike. Even if he knew how to fix it, he didn’t have the money. Sometimes it was difficult to resolve the differences between his two lives, but some things were constant in both. A lack of money and luck were definitely among them.

"We can get it fixed," Geralt spoke up from behind him. "Or I can get you a new bike."

"Geralt, I can't take that much money from you."

He shrugged, leaning against the door frame. "Jaskier, you see how I live. I don't exactly need much. And our stories… We could live comfortably."

Jaskier bit his lip. "Really?"

Geralt nodded. "Last time, you brought in most of the money. Let me do it this time."

"Okay," he agreed. "But I get to read the books first."

"I have no doubt that you'll have critiques ready for me," he said and Jaskier grinned. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Jaskier swayed against him. "Sap."

Geralt nudged him back before pulling him into the house and to the kitchen. "Idiot."

“Your idiot,” he said as Geralt set two plates down on the table and started eating from one. The man rolled his eyes, but continued eating. Jaskier hummed as he dug his fork into his own eggs.

“I need to go into the woods today and I want you to stay here.”

Jaskier looked up at the other man, fork hanging inches from his mouth. “What? Why?”

Geralt shifted in his chair, pushing a piece of bacon around his plate. “I need to make sure that the monsters that were left aren’t waiting around for us.”

“And you just want to do this alone?” Jaskier asked, setting his fork back down. “Geralt, this isn’t like the old days. There were so many more of them last night than I remember ever seeing before.”

“I know, but I’m the last one left who remembers how to fight these things. Or even what they are,” he argued.

Jaskier’s chair scraped across the floor as he pushed it back. He stood and left the room. The bookshelf needed a dusting, but he ignored that thought as he scanned the spines of the books that sat there. He found what he was looking for before striding back into the kitchen and throwing the book on the table where it sat between them. They both sat, looking at it for a long, silent moment.  _ The Curse of Fake Devils and Duckling Bards. _

“Jask-”

“No,” he interrupted. “You listen to me right now. You are not alone anymore and there are people who know about these monsters, even though they don’t realize it. They’re going to see these things and they’re going to be afraid. And they’re going to return to your books. You’ve taught them and you will continue to.”

“Jask-”

“Shut up,” he said slowly. “I know it’s part of who you are. And I know that I’m not a fighter. At least not yet. I can’t change you and I can’t stop you from leaving today, but, Geralt, I  _ need  _ you to come back. And so do they.”

Geralt stood and walked around the table, wrapping Jaskier in his arms. “I will never leave you,” he whispered. “And thank you.”

Jaskier rubbed the tears from his cheek. “Come back to me, Geralt.”

“I will,” he said, and tossed his head back towards the table. “Now can we finish our breakfast before I go?”

Jaskier nodded and sat down again. He pushed the food around his plate. “Can you teach me?” he finally asked.

“Of course,” he said. “I think it would make both of us feel better.”

Jaskier nodded, staring down at his plate. “Okay, let’s do that.”

They finished eating together, though Jaskier took his time for as long as he could. When they finished, he set their dishes in the sink and they both returned to the bedroom. Jaskier sat on the bed and watched as Geralt donned armor much like what he used to wear. It looked stronger than the old set. The older man knelt before him when he was finished. They said nothing, simply sharing the same space for as long as they could, before Geralt rose and kissed him firmly on the mouth. “Look for me at sunset,” he whispered.

“Do you have your phone?” Jaskier asked, voice high pitched to his own ears.

Geralt nodded and patted a pocket. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll answer.”

Jaskier nodded and watched as Geralt left. He brought his knees to his chest and wrapped an arm around them. With the other hand he gripped his medallion as hard as he could, the edges biting into his palm.

A knock at the door pulled him from his pit and he unfolded himself before going to the other room and looking out the window.

Pavetta stood there, holding a wiggling Ciri.

He opened the door and looked out at the young woman. “Pavetta?”

“I hope it’s okay to visit so soon,” she said quietly. “I just… I’m afraid. Duny’s at work and we were alone.”

He nodded. “Geralt’s not here, but this may be the safest place. You want to come in?”

She nodded and followed him inside and to the couch. Ciri crawled out of her arms and sat between them, leaning against Jaskier. Pavetta watched them, her brows drawing together.

“How does my daughter remember the two of you?” she asked.

“Honestly, I don’t really know,” he said. “Yennefer would be the better one to answer that question. The closest I can get is that we all knew each other in a past life. Well, some of us.”

“Past life?” she repeated.

“You said that you were remembering things that couldn’t have happened?” he said and she nodded. “That’s because it happened last time.”

Pavetta stared down at her daughter. “I don’t think that life ended well for Duny and me. Did it?”

He shook his head. “Not really, no. But you two did meet and get married.”

She snorted and reminded him of the woman that her daughter had been so many years ago. “I must have had a different mother then. My mom didn’t want us to get married. She’s cut me off now.”

Jaskier made a face. “That actually sounds like Calanthe. She may have tried to kill your husband back then.”

“Oh my Gods,” she said, slumping forward. “It was her.”

“Remind me to stay away from her. She was terrifying back then, I can’t imagine now,” he said.

“Oh, she has to be worse now,” she said, nodding. 

Ciri gripped his shirt and stood, staring at him. “Yaskee?”

“Yes, princess?” he said, a hand hovering inches from her back in case she wobbled over and fell.

She leaned forward and kissed the medal around his neck. There was a flash of light and heat before she pulled back, a satisfied look on her face, and snuggled back down between them. 

“What was that?” Pavetta whispered.

“That… that was magic,” he whispered back. “I think she just straightened my amulet. I’m getting you Yen’s number.”

He rose to his feet and crossed the room to his phone as she laughed behind him.

“How the hell am I supposed to raise a kid with magic?” she cried. “I… I can barely look after her when she’s normal!”

“Hey,” he said, turning back and kneeling in front of her. “Pavetta, you’re not alone and you’re doing a fine job.”

She wiped tears from her face. “I don’t want to mess her up.”

“Kids are resilient,” he said. “You’re trying. That’s more than a lot can say.”

She nodded and looked at her watch miserably. “Is it okay if we stay here til Duny’s about to get home?”

“Of course,” he said. “Anytime.”

They sat together, talking for hours till the sun began to drift towards the horizon. She picked up the napping toddler and left when she realized how late it had gotten. Jaskier watched them till they disappeared and then looked up at the sky. Geralt would be home soon.

He sat back down and took his sketchbook from the table. He sat back, propping it up in his lap and began to draw. Lines formed, taking shape into familiar features. He wasn’t sure where the memory came from, but he was sure that he remembered it somehow.

Geralt and he were gazing at each other, their faces close together. Geralt cradled Jaskier’s chin in his hands, staring at his lips. In the next moment, he knew that their lips would touch and promise a long night of passion.

Jaskier bit his lip in frustration. He wanted to paint it. With just a pencil he could shade and highlight, but it didn’t capture how fire made Geralt seem to glow and the way the embers that fell around them had glowed.

His phone rang, and he set the sketchpad and pencil down where it had been. “Hello?” he said, holding the phone to his ear.

“I’m coming back now,” Geralt said and Jaskier could hear the sound of Roach’s hooves pounding the ground. “The woods are safe.”

“Are you okay? Do I need the first aid kit?” he asked.

“No, everything’s okay. There were only a few stragglers. The rest have moved on,” he said.

“Okay,” he sighed, feeling his shoulders relax. “Okay.”

“I’m at the stable,” Geralt said and he grunted, probably climbing off of Roach’s back. “I’ll see you in a few moments?”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. 

The call ended and Jaskier slumped over his knees, body feeling boneless. They were safe. He took a deep breath and crossed the room, putting on his shoes, before he stepped onto the porch.

The day was beautiful. The heat of the day had started to pass and a cool breeze blew his hair in front of his eyes. Birds sang in the trees and he was sure that he could hear squirrels arguing somewhere. 

Then Geralt was walking up the path and the years disappeared.

He was still dressed in his dark armor and Jaskier could see the traces of potions in his pale skin and the bruises around his eyes.

He swallowed, stepping off the porch. “Hey!” he called.

Geralt waved back at him.

“Do you know what I have always wanted to do?” he yelled.

“What?”

He grinned as he twisted and ran around the cabin. “Catch me if you can!” he called out behind him.

Jaskier laughed as he heard the man curse behind him, but heavy footfalls followed. He ducked beneath a low-hanging branch and jumped over a small bush. He wasn’t going to make this easy.

“Jaskier, when I catch you-”

“You’ll what?”

“Let me catch you and you’ll find out!”

“Nope,” he yelled back, giggling as he threw an arm out and caught the trunk of a tree, his momentum spinning him around it.

“Jas!” he shouted as he spun around the tree himself. He reached out and snagged his jacket. They tumbled into the dirt, rolling for a few feet till they stopped, Jaskier laying on top of Geralt.

“You caught me,” he said, breathing hard. “What are you going to do with me?”

Geralt grunted. “I should tan your hide.”

“Should?” he asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You’d only like that.”

“True,” he admitted. He stretched his neck and pressed their lips together.

Geralt slid his hand under his shirt and held his side as Jaskier rose on his elbows, deepening the kiss. “Fucking insatiable,” he growled when they pulled back to breathe.

“You still haven’t answered,” Jaskier said, voice low. “What are you going to do with me?”

Geralt shifted beneath him, fishing in a pocket. “You better appreciate this. Everyone in that shop stared at me. I think a few even took a picture,” he said as he lifted his hand and a small bottle of lubricant lay in it.

“Oh, how did you know what I would do?” Jaskier asked. “I didn’t even know.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “I didn’t, but I do know your  _ appetite _ . I knew I’d need it soon. Just not this soon.”

Jaskier laughed, drawing his knees beneath him and sitting up over Geralt’s lap. He rocked his hips. “Please tell me you didn’t take your swords in with you.”

Geralt tossed his head. “I have been around for a few years. I know that. I left them with Roach.”

“I can’t wait to see those pictures and read the stories,” he said, rolling his hips again. He could feel Geralt hardening beneath him. “I can see it now: ‘I had to ring up this grumpy cosplayer and nearly died. His only purchase? Personal lubricant!’”

Geralt sat up, wrapping his gloved hand around the back of Jaskier’s neck. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Nope!”

Geralt huffed and kissed him. Their hands roamed, loosening straps and buttons. Jaskier pulled back and watched as he undid Geralt’s zipper. His cock bobbed free, already red and dripping.

Jaskier swallowed, scooting back down Geralt’s legs. He glanced up at him with a wicked grin before licking the length of him and wrapping his mouth around the head.

Geralt’s hips jerked and he threw back his head. “Fuck, that mouth of yours.”

“Was that an order?” Jaskier said after pulling off.

“It could be,” Geralt said, rocking into the hand that was still wrapped around the base of his cock. 

Jaskier hummed, tilting his head from one side to the other. “No. I get to give the orders this time.”

Geralt nodded. “And the first?”

Jaskier pushed against his stomach. “Lie back. I want you to be begging to be inside of me. And I won’t do it till you are.”

Geralt leaned back, a small grin on his face. “Who’s going to give first?”

“You will,” he replied.

Geralt smirked. “First one to beg makes dinner?” 

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I already have meals prepared in the fridge and I know you know that. How about the holdout gets to come first?”

Geralt laughed. “Deal.”

Jaskier grinned. “You’ll regret that,” he said just before dipping down and swallowing Geralt’s prick to the root. The man beneath him gave a short shout, back arching off the ground, and Jaskier laughed around the cock in his throat. A hand gripped his shoulder, and he glanced up through his hair.

With his cheeks flushed and eyes dark, Geralt stared back at him and twisted his free hand in front of his mouth in a locking motion.

Jaskier laughed again, and the hand gripped his shoulder harder before he pulled off. He licked up the shaft and paid special attention to the head, watching his lover's reactions the entire time. Geralt clenched his jaw and his veins stood out from his skin as his face and neck grew more and more flushed. 

“Jaskier,” he groaned. 

He bit his lip, mouth hovering close to the head of Geralt’s cock. He reached down and palmed himself through his pants. For the first time, Jaskier wondered if he could hold out longer. The next moment his determination hardened (just like the cock trapped in his pants) to make Geralt cave first.

He licked the tip and swirled his tongue around the head before alternating quick, little licks with long ones. Geralt shook beneath him, but kept his mouth clenched shut. Little gasps and moans escaped him. Spit dripped down Geralt’s cock, soaking the hair at the base and his hand that held him. 

He slid his hand down and held his balls, stroking his thumb over the skin. Gently, he tugged them and Geralt surged up, seizing him by the shoulders and pulled him into a bruising kiss. 

“Enough,” he growled, his hands stroking down to Jaskier’s hips. He gripped the fabric of the man’s jeans and  _ pulled _ .

The fabric gave with a loud  _ rip. _ Jaskier groaned as his pants fell from his hips. Geralt cradled him in his arms, laving his tongue up his neck.

“Not quite what I meant,” he said, voice breathless, pushing him back down to the ground before wiggling out of his jeans. “But I’ll take it.”

“Fuck, yeah,” Geralt growled as Jaskier straddled him. He opened the bottle of lube and Jaskier took it from his hands.

“Ah, ah,” he chided, pouring some in his hand and slicking his fingers. “You didn’t use your words so now you have to wait longer.”

Geralt groaned _. _ “Jas.”

“You didn’t beg, Geralt,” he said, reaching behind himself and circling his hole with a wet digit. “You only have yourself to blame.”

“But-”

“No, buts,” Jaskier said, pressing two fingers into himself. He sighed and snorted. “Except for my own, of course.”

Geralt paused. “I’m not sure I want to sleep with you anymore. That was a terrible joke.”

Jaskier rocked his hips, grinding himself down on Geralt’s raging erection. “Your cock says otherwise.”

“He’s a little dumb. What can I say?” Geralt said. 

Jaskier gasped as his finger stroked his prostate. “You could have  _ begged _ .”

Geralt stared up at him, before rising to his elbows. “Jaskier, please, I need you on my cock. Let me see that pretty face in rapture.”

“Mmmm,” Jaskier hummed. “You really have been reading what I wrote. You’re starting to sound like me, Geralt.”

A laugh escaped through Geralt’s nose. “I could want nothing more than to have my name on your lips.”

He smiled down at him as he removed his hand from himself and rose onto his knees. “Oh, Geralt,” he whispered, before sinking down on his prick with a sigh.

They stilled, both holding their breath. Finally, Geralt reached up and brushed Jaskier’s cheek. “Just like coming home,” he whispered as the other man turned his head towards his palm and smiled.

Jaskier nodded and leaned forward, laying a soft kiss on his lips. He winked and rocked back hard. A gasp escaped Geralt’s throat as his hands fell to his lover’s hips.

Jaskier set a quick pace, rocking and undulating. Geralt tried to thrust into him, but mostly stared up at him, breathless. He threw his head back with a gasp and Geralt nearly came right then as Jaskier’s inner walls tightened around him.

“Jaskier,” he whispered.

“Oh, gods,” he said, voice wrecked. “I swear I can feel you  _ everywhere _ .”

Geralt swallowed. He couldn’t take his eyes away as the man rose on his knees and dropped back down. Sweat made what clothing they still had on cling to their bodies and slick where their skin touched.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

“Fuck,” Jaskier cried, falling forward. His body trembled as his cock painted white lines up Geralt’s chest. He lay there, gasping for breath. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered. “You didn’t come.”

Geralt wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. “Not quite.”

Jaskier cocked his head to the side. “You did?”

Geralt brushed his cheek again. “You really have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?”

Jaskier’s brows drew together. “When?”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “When you came untouched on my cock.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Oh.”

Jaskier grinned at him, but before he could speak Geralt covered his mouth with his hand. 

“Let’s just enjoy the afterglow without any terrible jokes.”

Jaskier finally pulled the hand away from his face. “They’re not terrible.”

“Yes, they are,” he said before pulling him down in a kiss. “And I love you in spite of them.”

Jaskier huffed but settled down against his chest. He closed his eyes and listened to the birds above them. “I think this was a good idea, don’t you?”

“Mmm,” Geralt hummed. “One of your better ones.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Better than yours at least. You ripped my jeans!”

“I’ll buy you new ones,” Geralt said. “Will that make you happy?”

“You better,” he said. “Comfy ones at that. Those were worn in all the right places.”

“Would you rather I sew them back together for you?” Geralt asked.

Jaskier paused before lifting his head to narrow his eyes at him. “Are you serious?”

“I can be.”

He pursed his lips for a moment. “I’ll take you up on that.”

Geralt nodded and dug his hand in the hair at the base of the other man’s hair for a moment before pushing his face down into his shoulder. “Now be quiet a moment.”

Jaskier wiggled till he was comfortable and sighed in content. They lay together, the sounds of the forest around them as their bodies cooled.

“What are you going to do when a bug crawls in your pants?” Jaskier said.

Geralt bumped his head against his. “We can go in.”

Jaskier rose to his knees. “I’ll make dinner while you get cleaned up?”

Geralt hummed as he watched his lover pick up his jeans and pull them on the best that he could. He zipped his own pants up. “How about we both get cleaned up?”

Jaskier grinned at him. “After we get all messy again?”

“Who said we would get clean in between?” he said, rising to his feet.

“Gods, I knew there was a reason I loved you,” Jaskier said.

They walked back together and barely made it into the cabin before they were once again kissing and touching each other all over. 

Jaskier gasped as Geralt kissed his neck. “There’s clean-ah-towels in the dryer. Start the shower and I’ll get them and join you.”

Geralt kissed his skin once more before pulling away with a nod. “Hurry back.”

Jaskier jerked his head in a nod and almost ran to the laundry room. He grabbed the towels and went back. He stopped in the doorway.

Geralt was staring down at the sketchbook that he had left out, the drawing of them open. 

“I don’t remember this,” Geralt said.

Jaskier stepped up beside him. “I don’t really either. I think we may have been drunk.”

Geralt hummed. 

“What?”

“How would you feel if I asked Yennefer to make this the cover of my next book?” he asked.

“What?” he said, blinking. “Geralt, no, it’s not that good. It’s so rough and needs to be painted.”

“It’s better than most of the cover options they show me.”

“Would it even fit the story?”

Geralt shrugged. “I can make it fit. We were always going to be together in it, anyway.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Because it was already my favorite series, I’ll consider doing a cover option, but you can’t pick it just because it’s mine. And this,” he said, gesturing down towards the sketch. “This can be an extra.”

Geralt stared down at him consideringly. He finally nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

Jaskier nodded. “Now can we get more dirty for that shower again?”

Geralt rolled his eyes, but pulled him closer. “You’re insatiable,” he said, kissing his lips. “I love it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the day of Geraskier Week this was for was the free day! Which I dubbed "Soulmates AU Reprise."
> 
> Thank all of you for reading and sticking with this for so long! I appreciate each and every comment and kudo! I hope to be back soon, but I've got about four or five different projects I have to work on in the mean time. Thank you again!!


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